Set In Stone
by D3AD L0V3
Summary: They met when he was just a boy, but the secret of her life caused them to fall apart. Now, in 1966, Tom Riddle, who has long since been known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, looks for Willow in his anger and uncertainty. Now that he has her in his hands, he'll make sure she never leaves his side. Does he love her still? Or will he hate her forevermore?
1. Broken Promise, Shattered Heart

Hello, and welcome to my newest story... I've been working on this for a while, trying to get my ideas down on paper. I've really come to love this story, and I hope that you will, too. I do not own Harry Potter, or any of its characters- I simply thank J.K. Rowling with all of my heart for giving me, and every other hopeless Harry Potter fan, the opportunity to expand on her brilliant, fantastic creations for our own selfish entertainment. And so, with a hopeful heart and a deep breath, I give you...

**SET IN STONE**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

Broken Promise, Shattered Heart

On a cold rainy night in August, Mrs. Cole stood in the old, large doorway of the orphanage, staring down at the little girl with thick auburn curls of hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. The girl's sharp green eyes were brimming over with tears, and she was soaked from head to toe. The cold breeze blew harshly as Mrs. Cole, and she could scarcely imagine how the little girl must have felt. It was well after midnight, and Mrs. Cole had been about to turn in when she'd heard the three small taps. At first, the woman had passed it off as her tired mind playing tricks on her. It was the soft, trembling voice of a frightened child that had pushed Mrs. Cole to open the door.

"P-please, ma'am . . . I need a place to stay."

Now, Mrs. Cole ushered the sobbing, wet child out of the rain and into the hallway.

"What's your name, dear?" Mrs. Cole asked the girl as she closed the front door of the orphanage.

"Willow." The shivering girl murmured, rubbing her arms. "W-Willow Mae Hart."

"Well, Willow . . ." Mrs. Cole took a thick blanket from the hall closet and wrapped it around Willow's trembling shoulders. "If I were as cold as you must be, I would want a cup of hot cocoa. Does that sound nice?"

Willow smiled and nodded, wiping her eyes with the corner of the blanket, and Mrs. Cole smiled kindly and led Willow into the main room before heading to the kitchen.

Willow sighed deeply. She was in. Now all that she had to do was convince the old woman that she was just another regular orphan. _Though I suppose I am not much younger than she is_, Willow thought, shrugging the blanket off of her shoulders and roaming around the large room, leaving a trail of wet, muddy footprints behind her. The room was lit by numerous candles, placed out of the reach of children. The walls were, by candlelight, a rich, golden brown, but willow was certain that without the mask of the firelight, they would be as dull as the furniture. What little of it there was, anyways. The floors were made of wood, and very old, scuffed and worn from the years of children running about.

Willow turned as she heard footsteps, much too light to belong to Mrs. Cole. A chill ran up her spine, and she whipped around to see – nothing. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, and she took a few steps forward, calling out, "I know you're here".

The candles flickered out one by one, and Willow felt small, cold fingers wrap around her throat.

"_You're not welcome here_." an emotionless, young male voice whispered from behind her. Willow closed her eyes, her annoyance growing. Who did this kid think he was? "_Leave_." the voice continued.

A fierce growl erupted from Willow's throat as a wall of magical energy knocked her young attacker off of his feet and into the wall. The candle flames rekindled all at once, and Willow glared at the dark haired boy, trapping him against the wall with her magical force. Her glare shifted slowly to a look of curiosity and amusement as the boy smiled, and she released her hold.

"I _knew_ you were like me." The boy said, standing up straight and giving Willow a large, dangerous grin. "I felt it."

_Like him?_ Willow thought. _Is he a wizard?_

"The name's Tom. Everyone here is afraid of me. But you don't seem to be . . . I like that." Tom held out a hand and Willow gave him a questioning look.

"Willow." She said, grasping his hand. A small shock shot through her arm as their hands connected, their magic combining. Willow quickly pulled her hand away and gave the boy an apologetic smile. "That's never happened before."

"_Tom Riddle_! What are you doing _out of bed_?" An angry Mrs. Cole stormed into the room, nearly dropping the tray of hot cocoa.

Tom just grinned and winked at Willow. "Don't believe her nice act for a second. The old bat's a real witch."

Willow couldn't help but laugh at Tom's words. _If only he knew . . ._

"Go now, to your room!" Mrs. Cole placed the tray on an old oak table in the centre of the room and hurried over to Tom, nudging him toward the staircase. "No more of this sneaking about at night, or I'll have a locksmith put a lock on your door!" she called after him.

_If what he said is true, and he is like me, a lock will do nothing,_ Willow thought, following Tom with her eyes. _What a curious little boy_.

"I've had my helper, Martha, prepare a room for you," Mrs. Cole told Willow as she walked back into the room and lowered herself onto an old sofa. "But before you can go up to bed, I'll have to ask you a few questions . . ."

One month later, either late at night or very early morning, Willow sat up in her bed, staring at the faded pictures of her parents that she kept in a small, silver locket in the shape of a circle. Both of her parents were long gone. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had been trampled by a herd of Centaurs ten years ago. Willow was all alone, stuck in the body of an eight year old child. She was actually twenty-six years old. Willow, like her mother, did not age the same as wizards or muggles.

Willow's mother, Glinda, was a Gaela. Full Gaela only age one year for every ten years of their lives. Willow, being half wizard and half Gaela, aged a single year for every three years. While her mind grew at a regular rate, her body grew very slowly, which meant that Willow was always on the run, moving from orphanage to orphanage until the day that she physically turned eleven, and she could go to Hogwarts. Her father had told her so many stories of Hogwarts, and she could hardly wait to go there, to be accepted. No more running, just magic. Blissful magic.

Ageing slowly wasn't the Gaela's only ability. As a Gaela, Willow could also see the future. She wasn't as good with the sight as her mother had been, but she was sufficient enough to keep herself alive, which was a daily task. Along with their extra long lives, Gaela had extra bad luck. They rarely made it past two hundred. Just long enough for them to have a child and keep the line going. Her mother's superior skills had kept her alive for three hundred and thirty seven years, the longest a Gaela had ever been known to survive. She could have lived longer, too, but she chose to risk her life giving birth to Willow. _I wish I could have known you. Father said you were the most amazing woman he'd ever met._

Willow's gaze shot up from the locket as her bedroom door opened. She quickly tucked the locket into the thin white nightgown that Martha had set out for her, and grabbed a small, hand carved, wooden rabbit from her night stand, preparing to chuck it at the intruder.

"_Calm down_, Will. It's only me. And put that bloody rabbit _down_, will you? You really hurt me last time."

"Well, you scared me." Willow giggled as Tom poked his head into the room. Tom closed the door and moved over to the bed, sitting down next to Willow. They had become rather inseparable in Willow's first month at the orphanage. Willow had told Tom that he was a wizard, and she was a witch. He'd thought she was daft at first, but he came around after she sent him flying down the hallway for insulting her. She may have been twenty six, but part of her mind stayed the same age as her body, and she had a rather short temper.

"I wish we could go to Hogwarts _now_ . . . Get away from this place, from Mrs. Cole." Tom sighed, playing with a lock of Willow's long hair. "You've seen the way she looks at us, like we're not normal. One day... On day I'll change that. We'll be the normal ones, and they'll just be filthy muggle _scum_."

"Tom!" Willow punched his arm lightly, frowning. "What have they done to make you hate them?"

"Well, they certainly haven't done anything to make me _like_ them, have they?" Tom grumbled, taking the wooden rabbit from willow's hands and staring at it. "Muggles are so _useless_. With small dreams, and small lives. They can carve rabbits with tools, but with the wave of a wand, a wizard could turn this dumb thing into a _real_ rabbit."

"Hey! I like that 'dumb thing'!" Willow shot, snatching the rabbit back.

Tom rolled his eyes at her and lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling, running his eyes along all of the cracks in the paint. "One day I'm going to rule the world as the most powerful wizard of all time . . . and you can be my bride."

Willow laughed, smacking Tom with her pillow. "_Be serious_, Tom!"

She had no idea just how serious he was.

"Dumbledore came to see me today." Tom said as they sat by the old cave, one year later.

"I know."

"You _saw_?" Tom turned to Willow with a glare. "Why did you not tell me?"

"I only saw him coming. I didn't know of his intentions." Willow snapped, glaring back at the boy.

"As if the _beard_ and _robe_ didn't give it away! You just wanted me to suffer, you git!"

Willow shoved Tom off of the rock and into the water, yelping as he pulled her in after him. "I wanted it to be a surprise." She said, wading through the water. "Besides, my visions have been odd lately." Willow pulled herself back up onto the flat rock and watched as Tom followed after her, his long, wet hair plastered to his face.

"How?" he asked, shaking the water out of his hair, making some of it stand on end.

"Well . . . this cave, for instance." Willow turned to the entrance of the cave, trying to peer through the shadows. After a moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I saw thousands and thousands of dead bodies lying at the bottom of a lake concealed inside that cave." The images flew past her eyes again. "Imperi. I remember my father telling me about them." Willow opened her eyes and turned to face Tom. "They're meant to guard something."

Tom was silent for a moment, before he turned to study the cave. "D'you want to go and see if you dream was true?"

"Are you _mad_? I said _dead_ bodies, Tom! Dead _moving_ bodies!" Willow shuddered.

"I'm not the airhead who dreams of dead people."

"How would you like to _be_ dead?" Willow knocked Tom off of the rock again with an angry wave of magic. "You'd be wise not to make fun of me, Tom Riddle. I'm different. Different than muggles, different than you . . ."

"Would you two quit arse-ing about?" Martha called out to them. "It's time to go back."

"Yeah, Tom. Quit arse-ing about." Willow said, as if Tom had been the one who'd knocked her into the water, and she giggled as he splashed her. She hopped into the water and waded back to shore, the two of them splashing and pulling at each other the whole way.

"Promise me something?" Tom asked, squeezing the water out of his jumper. He looked up at willow, his dark eyes staring into her vibrant greens.

Willow ran her tongue over her lips- which were blue from the cold- before nodding slowly.

"Promise me you'll still be here when I come back in the summer."

Willow stopped walking and looked away, kicking at the dirt with her wet shoes.

"Will?" Tom persisted. "_Promise me, _Will."

"It's complicated..."

"What's so complicated? Just don't let any families come and take you. You've done it for two years already. I'm sure you can do it for another year. I _need you there._"

"It's not as simple as that, Tom." Willow had told Tom about her visions already, but she hadn't told him about how she aged differently than others. She never imagined they would become this close, that he would ask her to stay. _Now is as good a time as any to tell him_. "I'm different. They're starting to notice that I don't-"

"Hurry up, freaks!" Billy Stubbs shouted as he ran past.

Willow kicked sand in Billy's direction before she began to walk again. Tom caught up with here, taking her hand and pulling her to a stop, lacing his fingers with his. Willow's heart raced at the sudden show of affection from the orphan boy.

"Will... You're the _one_ person I've ever cared about... _please_, Willow." Tom took her other hand as well, and them squeezed them both in unison. "Promise me."

Willow sighed in defeat, pulling Tome into a bone-crushing hug. "You win, Riddle. I promise."

The two magical orphans giggled and ran, hand in hand, back towards the rest of the group.

Tom was due back in a week, and Willow was so excited that she couldn't sleep. She avidly remembered what Tom had said the day he'd left.

"_Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it. I'll tell you all about Hogwarts. The classes, the teachers. I'll even show you my wand. In a few years, you'll even be there with me. We can rule the school together. We'll be the coolest witch and wizard there, I swear it! And then we'll be together forever!"_

When Tom came back, Willow would have to tell him that they would never attend Hogwarts together. Wizarding law forbid her from going to Hogwarts until she was entirely of age. Her body couldn't control the magic properly otherwise, and it was a recipe for disaster. Sneaking out of her room, Willow made her way quietly down the stairs, pausing when she heard voices. Peering over the old, shaky banister, Willow saw Mrs. Cole and her helper, Martha. She was about to sneak back up to bed when she heard her name.

"I'm concerned about Willow." Mrs. Cole told Martha as she replaced old flowers with new ones in the vase, placing it back on the antique table that sat in the hall.

"Why are you concerned? Sure, she'd a little odd, but..."

"She'd been here almost two years, and and it's as if she hasn't aged a single day. Her hair hasn't even grown an inch. That's just not natural for girls her age... I think she may have some disorder that hasn't been discovered yet... We have to help her."

_Shit_... Willow dug her tiny nails into the banister. _I don't know if I can stay here another week... She'd too suspicious..._

"Maybe we should call a doctor?"

_If doctors find out about me... I'll be their test subject._ Willow grimaced, mentally apologizing to Tom for breaking her promise. She moved swiftly and quietly back up to her room and packed the few belongings she had. Her locket, the clothes she came with, and a hair ribbon that Tom had given her. Tying her thick, heavy auburn curls up in the ribbon, Willow opened the small window in her room and climbed up onto her nightstand.

As she hoisted herself out of the window, Willow caught a glimpse of the small wooden rabbit, and snatched it up before she let herself drop, using the little magic she had, and could control, to soften her fall.

"Willow?"

Willow ran behind a bush as she saw the light in her room turn on, hearing Mrs. Cole's voice drifting out from the open window.

"Martha! Martha! Willow has gone missing!"

_Oh, bloody hell... _Willow ran as the front door of the orphanage opened, lifting her tiny frame over one small fence, and climbing under another. By the time she thought she was far enough from the orphanage, her nightgown was torn and muddy, and half of her hair had fallen out of the ribbon. She looked around as she caught her breath, taking in the sight of the old houses and gas-lit street lamps.

The visions hit her, swift and violent. Suddenly, she was back at the orphanage, standing in her room. Tom burst in, looking happier than she'd ever seen him. Like he'd finally found the place where he belonged. Where they could both belong. His hair was shorter, his face was fuller, and his smile was brilliant.

"Willow, it was so amazing! You-"

"Tom..." Willow and Mrs. Cole said at the same time. Only Willow wouldn't be heard. She wasn't actually there. She was only able to wait and watch as the scene played out. "Willow is gone." Mrs. Cole continued, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"N-no. No. NO! She PROMISED!" Tom's voice began to rise, filled with menace. Willow even thought she saw a tear falling from his pale cheek.

_Oh, Tom... I had to leave. Please, don't hate me..._

Tom ran into his own room, which looked exactly like Willow's, and slammed the door, screaming in anger and disbelief. "I HATE HER!" He growled, throwing his book bag across the room, its contents spilling out, a few scraps of loose parchment flying up at the force, and then floating slowly back down. An ink bottle had broken, and now the dark substance spread over the old floor, likely staining it for good. "I HATE EVERYONE!" Tom continued, kicking the cabinet in his room. The whole room began to shake as his anger escalated, old toys falling from the shelves of the cabinet to the floor, the window rattling loosely in it's frame.

The vision changed without warning. Tom was older now. He looked to be around fifteen, and had become even more handsome that Willow had thought he would be. He was approaching an old house, opening the door, walking up the stairs. He entered a room with a man who looked exactly like Tom, and two older muggles.

_He'll find his father! That's great-_

Willow's heart stopped as she saw the bright, green light flash three times, striking each of the muggles exactly once. She watched as they all fell limply to the floor, killed by their own blood.

_A killing curse? But that's-_

Again, the vision shifted, showing a much older Tom placing a locket into a bowl on top of a small island surrounded by a dark lake. Willow had seen this place many times before in her visions, but had never understood what it had meant. She could have prevented it from happening. But now the future was already set in motion.

_That's enough!_ Willow's mind raged. She opened her eyes to see that she had collapsed on the floor. She was shaking all over, and when she tried to stand again, she immediately fell back down and burst into tears.

"I did this to him!" She gasped, magical energy beginning to build up around her. "I did this!" She yelled, pounding the ground with her tiny fist. Each time she hit the ground, a street lamp burst, spilling gas-stained glass everywhere. Because of her, Tom would become a monster. A murderous, heartless monster. Slowly, Willow began to compose herself. Once she was completely calm, she stood up and wiped her eyes, turning to go back to the orphanage. She had to be there when Tom got there. She couldn't let him turn into that beast of a man she'd seen.

"If you go back, you'll die."

Willow froze, looking around, trying to spot a body from the dark. "Who's there?" Willow asked, fear clear in her voice. She didn't want Tom to end up like she now knew he would, but she didn't want to die either. What would happen to Tom is she died? Would he become even worse? Would he seek revenge? "Who are you!" She asked when she'd received no answer from the shadows.

"Someone like you."


	2. Hidden and Discovered

I did a lot of editing to this chapter. It wasn't supposed to be like this, but I like it this way. I hope you enjoy it just as much as the last one. And please, review. I would love to know what you think. Your opinions are important to me. Seriously. No sarcasm here at all. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO

Hidden and Discovered

_Willow_

"I'm not sure that I can accept, Albus... I-"

"Willow, I can assure you, no harm will come to you within the walls of Hogwarts."

Willow shook her head and sighed, glancing at Dumbledore from across his large desk. Her old Headmaster had called her down to Hogwarts to ask her to take the position as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He stared at her now, over his half-moon spectacles, knowing fully well that by the end of the meeting, he would have her. Though Willow knew that it was useless to make excuses, as Dumbledore was a persistent man, she couldn't help but try.

"Sir, the risk of me being here- the students- Tom has been looking for me ever since he left Hogwarts- he means to _kill_ me! I cannot risk bringing that _here._"

"You said yourself that Tom believes that you are his age- I don't see why he would go looking for a nineteen year old girl. You never told him about how you age. He will be searching for a thirty-nine-year-old woman."

"He has come so close to finding me before... So many times. He knows my magic, he knows my aura."

"Tom Riddle is only one wizard, Ms. Hart."

"One wizard with one _hundred_ followers!"

Dumbledore sighed and removed his spectacles, rubbing his tired eyes. "You can't run forever, Ms. Hart. You've been running ever since your father died. Don't you think it is time to relax?"

"Even if I accept... you and I both know that I'll only be here a year. The position was jinxed by the very man who wants me dead." Willow wondered why Albus even wanted her to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. She didn't understand why he didn't ask her to teach Divination. After all, she had become just as gifted with the Sight as her mother over the past years. Now, she could read people's auras to discover their destinies. She could use the Sight at will, though she still got unexpected visions from time to time.

Dumbledore settled his spectacles back over his eyes and gave Willow a gentle smile. "I've never been one to believe in unbreakable jinxes, Ms. Hart. Anything that is done may so be undone, if one truly wished , you will start tomorrow, then?"

Willow rolled her bright green eyes. "You always did have a way of getting me to do what you wanted."

"No, Willow. You simply always knew what the right thing to do was." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, reminding Willow of her days at Hogwarts. "Apollyon, our care taker, will take you to your quarters so that you may prepare yourself for tomorrow."

A short, rather scary looking man stepped out of the shadows and gave Willow a toothless smile. He had ratty grey hair and the look on his face said that he would can any student that he caught misbehaving. Willow could tell that Albus and Apollyon Pringle were not on equal terms about punishing the students at Hogwarts. Albus would have not of it, but Apollyon would can day in and out if he could.

"Oh, and Willow, one last thing."

Willow looked back at the Headmaster as Apollyon opened the office door.

"It would be greatly appreciated if you could make yourself available for dinner. I would like to introduce you to our students."

"Of course." Willow smiled, and followed Apollyon out of the office.

Once they were at her chambers, Willow thanked Apollyon and entered her rooms. The first room would be her office. It was a large, circular room covered from floor to ceiling with books on the Dark Arts, pictures of various monsters, which Willow could name with just one, swift look. She was fifty-seven years old, and she'd had a lot of time to memorize everything she could about every subject. A beautiful antique writing desk sat in the very centre of the room, completely clear except for one sheet of parchment. _My schedule_, Willow confirmed, quickly noting which time she was to be at the great hall. At the back of the room, standing between to over-packed book cases, was the door to Willow's new room. Opening the door, Willow stepped into her bedroom. Her things were all there, placed neatly on top of her four-poster bed. With a wave of her wand- a twelve and three-quarter inch wand fashioned from a willow tree, with a strand of her own mother's hair as the core (Gaela's hair was said to increase the length of a spell)- her bags began unpacking themselves.

"Willow!"

Willow glanced at the fireplace opposite of her bed and smiled, glad to see the face of her only friend. Elliot had taken her under his wing the night she'd run away from the orphanage. He as a full Gaela, like her mother had been. He'd foreseen Willow's death is she ever encountered Tom again, and had convinced her to stay with him. Willow had taught Elliot how to use floo powder during her years as a student at Hogwarts so that they could keep in touch, as Elliot had a peculiar fear of owls. He swore they would be the death of him, and, well... If a Gaela tells you something is going to kill them, they're usually right.

"Oh, Elliot... I'm so scared. What if he finds me? My visions are always so odd when they involve him, I never know what's going to happen."

"Hogwarts is the safest place you could possibly be, Willow. I only see good for you there." Elliot's face smiled within the burning embers of the fire. "Do your old man proud, Willow. I love you."

"I love you too." Willow sighed as the face of Elliot disappeared. She quickly pulled off her travelling robes and dressed for dinner, pulling on beautiful green, velvet robes. She figured they were her most teacher-like robes- fine and beautiful. They made her look like she was in her mid-twenties, rather than a nineteen year old girl. The colour made her hair more vibrant, and her green eyes pop. Pulling her thick hair back into a loose braid, Willow used the ribbon to tie the braid into a bun. A few stubborn curls fell loose around her face, but Willow liked the effect it had.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, smiling, she recalled her very first dinner at Hogwarts. At first, she'd wanted to be a Slytherin, like Tom. But at the last moment, she'd changed her mind. She didn't belong in Slytherin. Though she was sure that she did have a darker, cunning side, she knew that her her wisdom and wit would win out, and so she was placed in Ravenclaw. She was both the oldest and youngest witch to ever graduate Hogwarts. Her first year, she had made friends with many other Ravenclaws. But as the years progressed, and she was still a small child, she'd been made an outcast. _At least I never had to go through the whole 'Hog-Hearts' thing,_ she thought. Hog-Hearts was the name she had come up with for all of the romances at Hogwarts.

After taking one last look at herself in the mirror, Willow left her quarters and headed for the Great Hall. She wondered briefly what the students would think of her, seeing as she appeared to be only a few years older than they were. _It won't matter..._ She convinced herself, stepping into the Great Hall and making her way slowly up to the front table, where all of the other professors sat. A few of them were familiar, and some she did not recognize at all. There was one woman there, Pomona Sprout, who Willow distinctly remembered going to school with. They had spoken a few times, because Willow had been interested in a plant that, if grown correctly, could make her appear older when she ate it. _She must be the Herbology professor now._ Another person Willow Recognized was Silvanus Kettleburn, her old Care of Magical Creatures professor. One time, in Willow's sixth year, the man had planned an entire class on the Gaela, even mentioning Willow's mother, Glinda a few times. Willow had found out a few more things about herself that class, like when a Gaela dies, they release a powerful essence that can be used to cure the ill and allow them to live for a few more years, before the essence died away. Then, of course, there was Ogg, the grounds keeper, and his assistant Rubeus Hagrid. We'd never spoken, but if we did, I imagined we would get along. After all, we both knew what it was like to be gawked at.

And then, there was Dumbledore, smiling at her from his seat at the table. Willow smiled and walked around the table, taking a seat in the chair Albus motioned to, between Pomona and Silvanus. _Of course, Albus would sit me between these two. _Willow pulled her chair in and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her nervousness starting to show. She was about to take a sip of the cool goblet of water that had appeared before her when Silvanus turned, his eyes widening as he recognized her.

"Oh, sweet bath buns! If it isn't Willow Hart. My, my, haven't you aged gracefully! How old are you now, Willow? Fifty-three? Fifty-four?"

Willow almost choked on her water and quickly set the cup down, placing a hand on her chest as she caught her breath. "F-fifty-six." She replied. The others at the table were staring at them in disbelief. "Fifty-seven in November. Most of us don't really count the middle years any more, but I suppose it's easier for me. I couldn't imagine ten years at one age. I hate three enough as it is." Willow rambled on nervously as she felt everyone's eyes on her. Willow glanced at Professor Sprout, who looked as is she'd just seen a ghost. She'd never known my secret, she'd only thought that I wanted to look older to be cool.

"Hello, Pomona... It's good to see you again, doing what you love."

"Oh, dear." Pomona turned away for a moment and took a long swig of whatever was in her cup before she turned back to me. "And I'd thought you were just a silly, misguided child back then. Now I see that you were right to want to be older. Forty years of being a child must have been torture."

"It most certainly was."

The students began filing in then, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins all from years to to seven. The first years would be arriving shortly for the Sorting Ceremony. After all were seated, envelopes were given to each student with the password into his or her house dormitory. The second they were read and remembered, they they turned into handkerchiefs that were the colours of each of the houses. The chattering of young witched and wizards spread throughout the great hall, excitement buzzing. Silence fell swiftly as the large doors to the great hall were opened and the first years were lead in by the Head of House of Gryffindor, twenty-nine-year-old Professor Minerva McGonagall, and Apollyon, who was carrying a short, three-legged stool, and the old, beloved Sorting Hat.

When the stool was set down, and the Sorting Hat on top of it, the Sorting had opened its big mouth, and then began to sing.

_When I was just a little lad,_

_a normal Wizard's hat,_

_I sat on Godric Gryffindor_

_With pride, and that was that!_

_But when the founders found_

_They could not sort forevermore,_

_They wove enchantments into me,_

_and this they rightly swore;_

_That every year, the Sorting Hat_

_They'll place above your head,_

_To tell each knew witch and Wizard_

_Where they'll make their bed._

_You could be strong like Gryffindor,_

_A brave and daring heart._

_You may be just like Ravenclaw,_

_Who's witty, and who's smart._

_Or maybe, you're like Hufflepuff,_

_Loyal, just, and true._

_Or if you're more the cunning type,_

_Then Slytherin's for you._

_No matter where I put you,_

_Just know my choice is right._

_The founders trusted me_

_To give you guidance on this night!_

_So come, young lads and ladies,_

_to this stool before you here._

_I'll tell you now, I'll tell you true,_

_Where you will spend your years!_

And then the sorting began, each house cheering loudly as they gained a new member. After the sorting was finally done, Albus stood up, moving to the podium with the large, golden owl spreading its wings. He cleared his throat, calling for silence, and the cheering, laughing, and happy banter quickly subsided as every pair of eyes focused on the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"As always, to our new students, welcome to Hogwarts, and to our old students, welcome back. Before we begin the feast, I would like to say a few things. First of all, Apollyon would like me to remind you that being out of bed after hours is strictly forbidden. We had a particular problem with that last year," I followed Albus' eyes to a red-headed couple that sat at the Gryffindor table, "and it will not be tolerated this year. Next I would like to caution the first years, and those of you who I know ignore me every year, that no students are allowed into the forbidden forest without the accompany of myself, our games keeper Ogg, or his assistant, Rubeus Hagrid. Now, last but not least, I would like to introduce you to our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Willow Hart."

At that, Willow stood, and smiled nervously as she felt all eyes shift their attention to her. "Not for long." Someone called out, and Willow heard snickering coming from the Slytherin table. She sat down, but she still felt eyes on her. They were likely all wondering why she looked so young.

"Now, Lucius, though Abraxas was a well loved student of Hogwarts, and this is your first year, I will not tolerate any sharp remarks from you. Or anyone else, for that matter." Albus looked sternly from table to table. After a moment of silence, Dumbledore broke into a large smile. "Now, without further ado- let the feast begin!"

And so the feast began. All of Willow's favourite foods appeared before her, from assorted types of pasta, to lemon flavoured chicken. There was so much there, so much to try, that she didn't even know if she would have room for afters. The room buzzed with the sounds of excited students, catching up with old friends and making new ones.

"I never realized how much I missed this!" Willow said, laughing for a moment before she filled her plate and began eating. She talked with Silvanus occasionally, telling him how much progress she had made with the Sight. Her nervousness slowly faded away as she became more comfortable with her surroundings. None of the others at the table seemed to mind that she appeared to be so young, and Willow was thankful for that. When she was full, she pushed her plate away, laughing as it immediately disappeared. She had forgotten what it was like to be at Hogwarts, how many little things there were to enjoy there. Then, realizing she had absolutely no lesson plan, for Albus had asked her at the last possible moment, Willow stood. "Do excuse me, please. I have to work on my lesson plans."

Albus gave her an apologetic look, and she gave him a small smile and a shrug. She had always been a proficient worker, so she was sure she would get it done. Saying a quick good-bye to the rest of the staff, Willow left to prepare for the next day.

_Tom_

"What have you found?" Tom Marvolo Riddle, now known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, sat in an elegant, throne-like chair in a dark, cold room. A thin, blond haired male knelt before him.

"My liege, we've had our spies in the ministry trace her magic. We believe that she may be at Hogwarts, as we have found traces of her magic specifically in that area today. Sources say Albus may have been considering her as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, though he would not inform the ministry of his decision. It seems like he may be trying to protect her, my Lord. To keep you from her."

"Well done, Abraxas." Voldemort his, praising his Death Eater. "Your son is in attendance at Hogwarts this year, is he not?"

"Yes, my Lord." Abraxas responded, hoping the Dark Lord would not have his son do anything dangerous.

"Do not fear for the life of your son, Malfoy. Simply send him a letter enquiring about the new Dark Arts professor. Her name, her image... I want to know anything about her that he can tell me. Now, go."

"Yes, my Lord." Abraxas stood then, bowing deeply before he left the Dark Lord alone in the dark room.

The Dark Lord stood, walking to the window and looking out. His eyes were as dark as ever, and his hair was slicked back, little strands of grey highlighting his dark locks. The man would be forty years in December, but he was just as fit as any twenty-year-old male hoped to be. The years had been kind to him, and though he had a cruel face, he was as handsome as he'd ever been, with a defined jaw, and slender form, the Dark Lord was strong, yet agile. He would be any woman's dream. Had he wanted them, he could have them. And he had had them. Many of them. Pleasure was a thing the man knew well. But there was only one woman had ever truly wanted, only one woman he ever truly _would_ want.

"I _will_ find you, Willow. And when I do, I will _kill_ you."

_Willow_

Willow had gotten to bed just two hours before she had to wake up. Her lesson plans were completed for the week, and now she could take things at a slower pace. Dumbledore had shown up halfway through her preparations with a gift for Willow- a beautiful Western Screech Owl with big, yellow eyes. It was covered mostly with reddish brown and black feathers, with pure white feathers over its front. Now, that Owl swooped down from the perch Willow had conjured for it, and onto Willow's bed, scraping at the sheets with its talons to wake the tired witch up. With a soft grown, the new D.A.D.A professor pulled her head out from beneath the sheets and looked at the creature. "I suppose I should thank you, or I might have slept in." Willow ran her fingers softly over the owl's feathers before getting out of bed. She dressed herself quickly, gathering her books and lesson plans for the day. She opened the window for her owl- who she had named Eli- so that he could come and go as he pleased before she left, heading to classroom thirty-one, tying her hair up as she did so. The first years were already there waiting for her when she arrived.

"I apologize for being late," Willow said, searching through her bag for the things she needed to start the lesson. "Now if you would all kindly open The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection to page-"

"Excuse me, Professor. May I ask you a question?"

Willow looked up from her bag, blinking at the blond-haired boy who had interrupted her. She faintly recalled him interrupting the night before, as well, to make a snide comment about her not being there for long. "Lucius Malfoy, is it?" The boy nodded. "Well, go on, ask away."

Lucius had gotten a letter from his father that morning at breakfast. Normally, the school would not allow this, but it had been marked as 'IMPORTANT'. Lucius had been confused as to why his father needed information on Professor Hart, but he knew not to question his father. He needed only to know a few things. "I was just wondering... You don't look much older than most of the older students here... How is it that you've come to teach at Hogwarts?"

Willow had figured that the question would arise sooner or later, so she'd decided that she would just tell her students the truth if they'd asked. It was easier that way. "I am actually fifty-six years old. I am half wizard, and half Gaela. You have all heard of Gaela, haven't you?" The students nodded slowly in awe that they were actually being taught by a Gaela. They were pretty rare now, what with their bad luck and all. "Well, I look young because my body only ages once every three years. It's a hard life to live. I had to run from orphanage to orphanage when I was younger, because the muggles would get suspicious when I didn't age. Both of my parents had died, so I'd had nowhere to go. It's much easier now that I'm older."

Lucius smiled, having gotten all the information he needed. He would send a letter out to his father as soon as the class was over.


	3. The Silken Collar

Okay, soooooo... This story changed a whole lot from my original. I've never done anything like this before, but the story sort of led to this on its own. It practically wrote itself. Now, I should probably warn those who read this, that there is a clear show of dominance and enslavement in this chapter. I hope it does not discourage you from continuing to read it, though if it does I understand completely. And so, though it makes me slightly nervous, I give you...

CHAPTER THREE

The Silken Collar

_Willow_

Professor Hart sat at her desk one week later reflecting on her lessons. They had all gone fairly well. Aside from the Malfoy boy interrupting her, her lesson plans had gone through smoothly with her new students. They seemed to like her, and that was good. At first, Willow had thought they would scorn her, laugh at her age. But they seemed to take her just as seriously as the other teachers. _Perhaps this is what I am meant to do,_ she thought, pushing back her chair and standing. She would have new lesson plans to impress the students with again tomorrow, and needed sleep. With a soft yawn, the witch put her papers neatly into a single pile before departing to her bedroom. Once there, she undressed, slipping into a black, silk camisole and matching shorts. She pulled the ribbon from her hair and hung in on the corner of the large, ornate mirror that stood in her room. She ran a hand through her hair, the silky locks falling loose from the braid, and looked into the mirror.

"_I'm so young_..." She whispered to herself, studying her petite frame. She could not wait to be a fully matured woman, with voluptuous curves and ample breasts. What she wouldn't give for a wrinkle or two... A single grey hair, perhaps, some 'love-handles'. Willow was too engrossed with studying her young frame to notice a black form appear behind her in the mirror. It wasn't until it spoke that the Gaela noticed.

"That you are. That is why I have struggled to find you for so long..."

Willow's gaze shot from her reflection, to that of the man behind her. He wore billowing black robes, and though he was much older than the last time she had seen him, she was stricken by his handsome features. "T-Tom! It can't be... Hogwarts is protected by multiple wards to keep you-" Willow turned to look at the dark Wizard then, stopping when she saw nothing behind her but her bed, and the clothes she had discarded earlier. Turning back to the mirror, she saw Tom once more, standing still behind her. "You're not actually _here_, are you?"

Tom laughed, a cold, harsh sound. "It's _Lord Voldemort_, now," He snapped at the mention of his old name. "And of course not. To enter that pathetic excuse for a school would be to die, and I'm not quite ready for that yet," the Dark Lord's reflection grinned maliciously, causing Willow to shiver. "This is the only way that I could speak to you without drawing attention to myself. Owls are inconsistent- you never know when they're being watched. That old oaf Dumbledore has been monitoring the floo network since your arrival, and I can't very well show up in person." Voldemort shrugged casually, his reflection appearing to look at Willow's. "I've had my pawns trace your magic, and when at last we discovered you were here, it was a simple task to project this image of myself to you, using a spell somewhat like the one used to enchant the Mirror of Erised." Tom chuckled as he took in the sight of his old friend in her nightclothes. "Excellent timing on my part, I must say. I am quite enjoying the view, though those are a little small for my liking." Tom's eyes twinkled with a dark humour as Willow quickly covered her chest with her arms.

"What do you want, Tom?" Willow asked angrily.

"You know what I want," Tom growled, his hands reaching up to grasp Willow's shoulders and turn her around, dropping when he remembered he was simply a reflection in her mirror. "I want you _dead,_" he hissed, his eyes growing dark with cold malice. "You broke your promise."

"We were children, Tom!"

"Apparently, _you_ weren't!" he shot, his rage building. "You gave me hope, something to live for, something to go back to that terrible, muggle-ridden orphanage for. And then you tore that all away from me, like I meant nothing to you! _NOTHING!_"

Willow winced at the force of his voice, stammering slightly as she spoke. "I-I had to, T-Tom. I-"

"You _had_ to? You had to _abandon_ me? Like my mother? Like my _stupid_ muggle father?"

"Tom, you have to understand that I never wanted this to happen-"

"Well it doesn't matter now, does it. It's much too late to take back what you've done. I could handle not having a mother or a father, but I _trusted_ you."

"You can _still_ trust me, Tom."

"_STOP CALLING ME THAT!_" The angry wizard barked, his fists clenching as he tried to control his rage. He opened his mouth to speak again, closing it when his eyes caught on the reflection of the long, red ribbon hanging from the mirror. His tensed, angry expression faded away as he reached for the ribbon, his reflection seeming to touch that of the beautiful silk ribbon. "You kept it..." His soft expression grew into the cocky, arrogant grin of the man he had become. "You'd fallen in love with me, hadn't you? That's why you still have this silly old scrap." Spurred by this sudden knowledge, and the need to hurt the seemingly young woman who had abandoned him, Tom's eyes adopted a seductive glow, and he began to trace his fingers slowly over Willow's reflection, just as he'd done to the ribbon.

"S-stop that," Willow hastily demanded, trying to push Tom's hand away as if it were actually there. She knew that it was only a reflection, but even the sight of it made her shudder, half in anticipation, and half in fear.

"I'd forgotten before, but now I recall something about the spell. You have to want me. You have to want me somehow, even slightly, for it to work." Tom kept trailing his hand over Willow's naked arm, and soon was sliding his fingered softly over her prominent collarbone. "So, tell me, Willow," Tom practically sighed the words as his form seemed to push closer to her in the mirror. "Exactly how much do you want me?"

"I... I don't want you..." Willow protested. She willed herself to move, to turn away from the mirror, but it was as if she were stuck there.

"Liar. You lied then, and you lie now," he hissed, his other hand moving to slither along Willow's waist, slowly creeping up towards her breast. "Tell the truth, for once in your miserably long life."

Willow glared at his reflection in the mirror, her anger spiralling inside of her. "You want the truth?" She asked, her voice as sharp as a whip. In a flash, the scene changed. Reflected in an old, cracked mirror stood Tom Riddle, Willow now standing behind him as she turned his own magic against him. She laughed coldly, teasing him as he had her by sliding her arms around him, moving her lips by his neck. "The _truth_ is, Tom Marvolo Riddle, that it is _you_ who wants _me,_" she mewled, her hands sliding lower over the now surprised man's chest. Willow could see his whole life up to this moment flash before her eyes, and she grinned wickedly. "You have _wanted_ me ever since you were old enough to recognize the urge," she whispered seductively, her hands now rubbing along the silent wizard's thighs. "You raped and murdered countless muggle woman to try and satisfy yourself. But it didn't work, did it, Tom?"

"No..." It was so silent that Willow almost missed it. Almost. Triumph flashed in her eyes, and she moved her hands inward, laughing as Tom clenched his teeth together, his shiver of pleasure so strong that it was visible in the mirror.

"And what did you do then, Tom? When you could no longer find any release in the muggles, what did you do?" Willow knew full well what he had done, but she wanted him to say it himself.

"I had my Death Eaters search for you," he whispered, his arrogant demeanour completely diminished now. "I became obsessed with you. More so than I had ever been."

Willow smirked, her lips seeming to brush against the Dark Lord's neck in the reflection. "And what did you want to do to me, Tom?" She enquired as she gazed into his dark eyes. "Kill me? _Rape_ me?"

Tom muttered something inaudible, but Willow wouldn't settle for that.

"What was that, Tom? Say it with conviction. How powerful is the Dark Lord _Voldemort_ is he cannot state a simple fact with conviction?"

"Love!" He shouted, the word echoing through the room. "L-love... I wanted to love you."

Willow's hand's dropped, and her mouth opened slowly as she searched for something to say, shocked into silence by Tom's confession. She had expected 'Kill', or 'Rape' as she had said, quite possibly even 'Possess', but never in a million years had she expected him to say that he'd wanted to love her. She looked at his face, slowly studying every line, every angle. He looked disgusted with himself, as if to hope for love were below him.

"Why... Why do you make me love you? You make me so- so _weak. _So _vulnerable_. So... _human._" The last word dripped with dread, with malice, as Tom struggled to regain his composure. "I should hate you. I want to hate you. It would be so _easy_ if I hated you, just like I hate everyone else. But you won't let me. You keep invading my thoughts with that stupid, silky voice of yours, those damned, beautiful eyes, those soft, rosy lips..." Tom's words slowed as he spoke, until he stopped talking completely, a look of yearning clear on his face as he became lost in his thoughts. Slowly, Willow noticed rage begin to take over every other emotion, until it was all that was left in the man. With a sharp jolt, the two were back in Willow's room, standing in front of her mirror, the reflection showing Tom's large hands wrapped around her frail neck. "I will _kill_ you for making me feel like this, Willow! The second you step out of that place, you are mine. I will break you, Willow, until you _beg_ for me, and then I will _kill you_. You had better hope you never take a single step out of that castle's wards, _girl, _because I promise_, you'll regret it._ I will do _whatever_ it takes to get to you. Not a student in that castle will be safe to leave, so long as you remain there." Voldemort grinned wickedly as power and truth rang clear in his voice. He said one last, harsh truth before he left. "It is set in stone."

"Where is Albus?" Willow stood in front of Minerva McGonagall, still in her nightclothes, glancing around the large office for any sign of Dumbledore. She was shaking, her blood had run cold with fear as the truth in Tom's promise had hit her heart.

"He is away on important business and will not be back until tomorrow evening," the Head of Gryffindor said calmly as she took in Willow's appearance. "Now, what on earth are you doing running about the school in the middle of the night in _that_, Ms. Hart? It is hardly appropriate! Now, I suggest that you go back to your quarters and get some rest, and we can sort this out tomorrow," Minerva reasoned, believing that the girl was simply deprived of rest. "Come, now. To bed with you," she said, ushering the shivering girl to the door of the office.

"No! I have to speak with him, Minerva. It is urgent!"

"Now, what is so important that you must call the headmaster back to Hogwarts? Have you finally hit puberty?" The woman asked snarkily, taking a shot at Willow's appearance. Willow's dislike for the woman grew, and she glared.

"At least I won't be an old, frigid, disliked _bitch_ when in a few years time," Willow snarled, some of her fear subsiding as anger replaced it.

"I've heard quite enough from _you,_you insolent child!"

"I am fifty-six years old, you stubborn _cow_, and you will take me _SERIOUSLY!_" The angry Gaela's voice was filled with authority, demanding respect for all of the fifty-six years she had lived. "Now, you will call Albus back to the castle, and you will tell him that it is no longer safe to leave Hogwarts. Not for the students, not for the staff- not at all."

"What are you babbling on about? Of course it is safe-"

"Voldemort means to have me, by any means possible. He will take students, and he will kill them. If anyone so much as steps foot outside of the wards, _he will kill them._ He knows that I would not let any harm come to the students here, so he expects me to go to him. I cannot do that, Minerva. If it means protecting, then I will... But Albus has promised my safety here." Willow was crying know, the tears staining the silk of her camisole. "I can't go to him, Minerva. _Please,_ don't make me go to him..."

McGonagall was at a loss for words, and so she took Willow into her arms, softly rubbing the frantic girl's back. "I will contact Albus. But first, tell me exactly what happened, so we may prevent it from happening again.

And so, Willow recounted her evening to Minerva, who was silently taking in the story, feeling that Willow was telling the truth, that they would most definitely be in danger if they were not careful to stay withing the protection of the castle wards. When Willow was finished, Minerva sent the picture of one of the old headmasters to go to its frame at the ministry to ask for Albus Dumbledore, and tell him to make a swift return to Hogwarts. He was there within moments, his expression both serious and worried as Willow recounted her story yet again.

"Minerva, wake the students. Call them all to the Great Hall. There will be no trips home, or to Hogsmeade, I'm afraid."

"Albus, we can't very well keep the students here for the rest of their lives. What are we going to do?"

"We must find a way to get Willow out, and to safely. Until then, we will continue on as usual, only the students must stay within the castle grounds. We must contact the parents, tell them what is happening so that they do not fear the worst. Now, tell the other Heads of House to wake up their students. I will see you in the Great Hall in twenty minutes. Come, Willow. I will teach you how to prevent Tom from coming to you again."

A month had passed, and Willow was safe in her office at Hogwarts for the time being. Several students had been angry about the situation- most of them Slytherins- and Willow had had troubles with her classes ever since. Parents were frantic, wanting to take there children out of Hogwarts immediately. But, until Albus could figure out how to transport Willow safely away, Hogwarts was on lock-down. It had seemed a quite simple solution to many. Albus was headmaster of Hogwarts, and could there for apparate at any time, with anyone. But as Willow was part Gaela, she could not apparate. Apparating would risk both her's and Albus' lives. The only half Gaela, half wizard to ever apparate had been found, splinched, in thousands of different places all over the world. It had something to do with their blood. Of course, a few of the Slytherins agreed that this would be a befitting death, but they were ignored.

Willow had had the most trouble with one particular Slytherin- a Ms. Bellatrix Black, who was in her fourth year at Hogwarts. Before, the girl had taken a particular interest in the class, seeming to be a straight 'O' student. Now, the young witch did everything she could to mock Willow. "He'll have you, you know." She'd said once, waiting until all of the other students had left the class to approach Willow. "And when he does, you'll be sorry," she'd added before leaving. Willow avoided the girl when she could, now, afraid she might snap the little wretch's neck. But that would only result in her going to Azkaban, and, as Tom seemed to have some control over the Dementours, eventually she would end up in his hands. With a soft sigh, Willow ran a hand through her thick curls, feeling more trapped than she ever had before. She was so used to running away from danger, from being discovered. Now that she was cooped up at Hogwarts, she longed for the days of climbing over fences, hiding out in old, abandoned houses.

Upon hearing a knock at her door, Willow stood and adjusted her robes, making sure she looked presentable, before quickly organizing her desk. "Come in," she called when she was finished. She watched as the door slowly opened, and Bellatrix Lestrange stepped in, closing and spelling the door behind her so that it was sealed tight. Willow narrowed her eyes at the young Slytherin witch. She could have easily broken the spell and sent the girl away, but obviously she had something important to say, or she would not risk cornering a professor like this. "What is it you want, girl? Be quick, I'm a busy woman."

"Good evening, Professor." Bellatrix said. The polite tone did not sound well on her. "I've come to deliver a message." She said, a wicked smile on her face. "The Dark Lord would like me to tell you that he will wait as long as he has to for you. He says that he knows you can see the future, and he knows that what you see is exactly as he said it will be. You _will_ encounter him. And he will not show you any mercy."

"Is that all?" Willow asked icily. The girl was right. She had seen the end, and it had been exactly as Tom had said, though she would never admit that to the girl.

"He would also have you know that if you do not bring yourself to him within the next twenty-four hours, he will send his Death Eaters to the whereabouts of one Elliot Fletcher... And kill him."

"You _vile_ girl!" Willow pulled out her wand, pointing it at the Dark Lord's young follower.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you, professor." Bellatrix said with a smirk. "Twenty-five Lovat Lane." The girl said in a sing-song voice, laughing wildly as Willow lowered her wand and covered her mouth, choking back a sob. "That's right, Professor. I'd make up my mind, and soon, if I were you." Bellatrix lifted the spell she'd set on the door then, and left.

Willow felt her legs give out the moment Bellatrix was gone, and she dropped to the floor heavily, tears streaming freely down her cheeks now. She let herself cry for a while longer before she pulled herself together. She would go. She had to. She couldn't let Elliot be killed. She would not. So, she lifted her young body off of the floor and wiped her eyes. She did not bother gathering all of her things. She took only five things with her. The clothes on her back, her wand, the locket with the pictures of her parents, the small wooden rabbit from the orphanage, and the ribbon Tom had given her. With that, she left her office and headed for the exit of the castle, only stopping when she had reached the large castle gate and the end of the grounds. Albus met her there, trying to convince her to stay.

"They'll kill him, Albus. I will not let that happen. Besides, it's much better this way. The students will be safe."

"I really wish you would change your mind, Willow. I can't help you once you're gone. Tom has become far to powerful."

"I know."

Albus gave Willow a long, sympathetic look before he took out his wand and tapped the gates once. They opened, silent but slow, and Willow embraced Albus, her fear clear in the way that her body trembled. With a deep, shaky breath, she bid the old wizard ado, and stepped off of the castle grounds. Immediately, Voldemort was there, enveloping Willow in his strong arms, and within seconds, they were both smoke, travelling on the currents of the wind to Tom's hideout. Since this wasn't really a form of apparation, Willow was safe, and they both arrived there with all of their limbs, the thick trails of smoke quickly reforming as their bodies. The second very second she was certain that she was all there, Willow pushed out of the dark wizards arms and slapped him across the face.

"You... You _animal!_" Willow slapped him again, the force surprisingly strong for her small, nineteen year old body. "How _dare_ you use Elliot against me! How _dare_ you send a _child_ to threaten me!" She went to hit him again, but he grabbed her wrist, holding if firmly in place. Bringing up her free hand, she slapped the wizard once last time, with all of her might, before he grabbed hold of that wrist as well, and forced her back against the door to his hideout. "How!" She shrieked, clenching her fists as she tried to escape his grasp. Soon, when she realized that she could not get her wrists free, she went slack, leaning into her old friend and sobbing against his chest. "How could you become such a monster..?" Her voice, weak from crying, cracked as she asked this of the man who had been her first, true friend.

Tom simply stood there, his hold on her wrists never loosening, even as she fell against him. He buried his face in her soft, sweet hair, basking in triumph, as he had her at long last. She didn't struggle as he gently led her into the house, sealing the door behind him. There were none of his faithful servants about, as he had sent all of them away for this glorious night. Finally, he let go of Willow's wrists, and she dropped to the floor before him, her tears long since dried up. In one final bout of anger, Willow took the small wooden rabbit from the pocket of her robes and chucked it at Tom, just like she used to whenever he'd scared her.

"I can't believe you kept this pathetic chunk of wood," he spoke at long last, picking the rabbit up after it had bounced harmlessly off of his chest and fallen to the floor. He tossed it aside, and as it flew through the air, Tom transfigured it into a real rabbit, who hit the floor and then hopped off soundlessly through the hall. "What else did you bring with you? Hm?" Tom examined her. He noticed the locket around her neck and grinned, his smile dripping with cruelty. "You won't be needing this anymore," he hissed, yanking the chain from her neck. The necklace turned to dust in his hands, and Willow watched the last remnants of her parents trickle to the ground through Tom's fingers. He reached his hands into her pockets, finding first her wand, and then the long ribbon he had given her. "Ah, I'd hoped you would bring this," he said with a chuckle. "Though, I wasn't sure you would after how we'd parted that night." The Dark Lord tucked Willow's wand into his own robes before producing his wand. He ran the tip of his wand along the length of the ribbon, whispering a few words as he did so. When he was done, the ribbon flew up into the air, creating a spiral, and then snaked itself around Willow's neck, tying itself into a bow.

"What the- are you barking mad, Tom? Get this damned thing off of me, right now-" Willow gasped as the ribbon tightened around her neck, cutting off her air supply.

"I've spelled the ribbon," the dark wizard explained as he walked around Willow, watching as she struggled to breath. "If you displease me, it will do one of three things. Choke you, shock you... or kill you. It will not come off unless I will it to, so there is no use in trying to take it off. If you use magic against it, it will retaliate." Voldemort knelt in front of her then, grabbing her chin firmly as she gasped for air. "You will _not_ call me _Tom_ again. You will address me only as 'My Lord', or 'Master'. Do you understand?" Tom waited for some form of a reply. A nod, a choked out 'yes', but Willow only glared at him. As the Dark Lord's patience wore thin, the ribbon tighten once more. "_Do you understand?_" He hissed, pulling her face close to his. Willow wrenched her chin free from his grasp before she gave a quick nod, her breath supply running much too low for her liking. The ribbon loosened just like that, and Willow's master smirked. "Well done."

"I _hate_ you." Willow whispered, her voice now rough from being choked.

"Oh, but I _love_ you, Willow," he remarked, grabbing her by her new collar and pulling her in for an angry, hard kiss. Neither of them liked the fact that something sparked when their lips met, and so they pulled apart quickly, though not letting the other know their thoughts. "And I intend to _shower_ you with... _affection._" The Dark Lord chuckled deeply at that and stood up straight. _I just hope that in breaking her, she doesn't end up breaking _me, he thought. When he'd said he loved her, he hadn't been lying.


	4. Engraved in Gold

CHAPTER FOUR

Engraved in Gold

_Willow_

Tom had left swiftly after their last encounter.

"_I've some business to attend to," _He'd said._ "Be a good little pet while I'm gone, won't you?"_

Before Tom had left, he'd taken her down three flights of stairs and into a dark room He'd waved his wand one last time, causing the dust of Willow's old locket to swirl around on the floor. It started to glow softly before reforming and expanding to create a golden shackle that clasped itself around her ankle before digging itself deeply into the cold, rough floor, which Willow figured was stone. When he was gone, Willow crawled to the corner of the room, drawing her knees up to her chest to try and conserve her warmth. Breathing deeply, Willow used wandless magic to create a small ball of light, which she sent to the center of the room. Willow cringed at what she saw. The room was like a dungeon, dark stone walls, no windows, and a heavy iron door that would cut off any sound from outside. However, none of those features were what had made Willow's heart falter, her breath quicken. The reason Willow pushed herself farther into the corner and closed her eyes tightly, letting the ball of light flicker out of existence, was that she had seen the room before. She had seen the dark stains on the floor, cause by the blood of countless muggles who had been tortured there. She had seen the small crack in the back right corner, just large enough for a mouse to squeeze through, and the bracket attached to the wall beside the door. Only then, a torch had been in the bracket. Then, Tom had been in the room, anguish clear in eyes. Then, Willow had been on the floor, taking her very last breath. Willow was trapped inside the very room that she had watched herself die in.

By the time Tom returned, Willow was shivering, trying- and failing- to add thickness to her robe with wandless magic. "It's so b-bloody c-cold…" Willow muttered to herself, rubbing her palms together before pulling her robes tighter around her. A sharp _click_ made Willow jump, and she turned her head towards the now opening door, wincing as the bright light from the hall hit her eyes. Tom stepped into the room carrying a lit torch, and Willow watched with wide eyes as he placed it in the bracket. _No, no, this is too soon__…_ Willow tried to recall every single detail from the vision of her death, and began to compare it with what was happening now. She sighed in relief when she compared Tom's robes. The ones from the vision had been much a much darker shade, whereas the ones he wore now seemed to be faded. Noticing Willow's reaction- first the paralyzing fear, then the relief moments later- Tom cocked his brow.

"Relief? I've never seen a slave who was so relieved to see her Master so soon after the process began." Tom walked slowly up to Willow's shivering form in the corner, a distinct _tap_ echoing through the room every time one of his feet met the floor. "Or is it something else entirely?" The wizard inquired, his eyes gazing into Willow's knowingly. "I recall that you were able to see the future when we were younger," Tom stated before shrugging off his robe and tossing it over to the other end of the room. He put his hand to his bare chin, as if in deep thought. "That was something you- surprisingly- did not hide from me." Tom began to pace the room slowly, and in an utmost patronizing manner, said, "_The girl who envisions the walking dead._" Tom smirked as Willow glared at him. "Ah, but you were right about that, weren't you? I've got myself a fine little army at the bottom of the lake, deep inside that cave." Tom laughed, a dark, humourless sound. "You remember that cave, do you not? Ah, yes, I see the recognition in your eyes," Tom said with a voice that was somewhere between a whisper and a hiss. "I used to be quite fond of that memory. Two little children, and a solemn promise. But wait- that's not quite how it went, was it?" Tom had stopped pacing and now stood dangerously close to the cowering form of the one he wished he didn't love. "It was _one_ child, a _deceiving_, _heartless_ _bitch_ and a _LIE!_" As Tom shouted the last word, he reached out and grabbed Willow by her silken collar, lifting her up until her feet could no longer reach the ground. "You've seen your death in this room, haven't you?"

"Nngh!" Willow gasped, kicking her feet and reaching her hand's up to her collar to dig her nails into Tom's pale flesh.

Tom sucked in air with a slow hiss, his eyes slitting as he stared at Willow. "Try a little harder, pet. I'm not quite enjoying it yet."

"You… Are not… s-supposed to- Ngh!- find s-satisfaction in it, you… b-b…b-"

"B-b-b-_bastard?_" Tom mocked his slave, smirking as he did. "Come, now, Willow. Stop _choking_ on your words and just spit it out."

Willow tried to do exactly that, letting saliva build up in her mouth before attempting to eject it right onto Tom's face- only she couldn't build up enough force the way he was holding her, so it dribbled aimlessly down her chin.

Tom narrowed his eyes, turning his head away in disgust before he let Willow drop, like a rag doll, to the floor. "You might try to be kinder to your _Master_," he hissed, pulling out his wand as Willow began taking in as much air as she could hold. She had been choked twice already, and she wasn't growing any fonder of it. However, she would gladly risk getting choked again to say what she had to say.

"Your lust for power has gone to your head. You do not _own_ me, Riddle, and you never will…" Willow sat herself up slowly after she had caught her breath, minding the bruises she could already see forming as she moved. "You are a weak and ignorant shell of the boy I used to know, and for that reason only, I shall call you Voldemort, for I see no Tom Riddle here." Willow winced as she forced herself to stand, the cold of the room having made her bones feel weak. "You are a carcass, dripping with every _vile_, _putrid_ thing wizard-kind has ever done," Willow continued. "You fill yourself with contempt and hatred for those around you, you exile yourself by belittling everyone else." Willow pushed her thick curls away from her face, her eyes locking into Tom's. "And you do this- all of this- because secretly, you _hate_ yourself. You hate what you've become, and you blame it on me, and on the rest of the world to try and make yourself feel better. But it doesn't work, does it? It will never work! You can kill me, but you will hate yourself until the _day you die_."

Tom stood silent for a moment, his wand half raised towards Willow, before he said coolly, "That may be so, but at least I'll be rid of you." The wizard turned to leave, stopping and looking back as Willow's harsh laughter filled the room. "_What?_"

"You'll never be rid of me, _my Lord_," Willow's voice dripped with sarcasm at the last to words, and she bravely stepped closer to Tom and turned him to face her completely. "You regret killing me, in the end. I've seen it. _Anguish._ Anguish worse than you felt the day you realized that I was gone, and I would never come back."

Tom's expression grew dark, and he closed the distance between them, grinning as Willow's demeanour seemed to falter. "You are either very courageous, or very foolish," he hissed, bringing his wand up to prod into her chin. "Personally, I'd vote the latter."

"I may be a fool, but so are you." Willow said, quickly regaining her composer.

"Oh, am I? And why is that?" Her Master asked, snaking an arm around her and pressing his hand against the small of her back, forcing her even closer.

Willow's lips slowly spread into a seductive smile as Tom did all of the things she had thought he would do. One of the reasons they had been so close as children was because they both had such strong personalities. Now, as a man, Tom loved a woman who was courageous, who could glance past the veil people put up and see things for what they were. He loved a woman who could pull herself up and be strong, even in the worst situation. Willow was that woman- and she knew it. With a single batting of her eyes, Willow had Tom drawing his lips closer to hers. She let him get just close enough to feel the breath of her whispered words against his lips before she spoke. "_You are a fool, because you _love_ me. With all of your heart._" Willow smirked triumphantly, believing she had won, that she had outwitted the man who kept her chained to the floor, but one look into his malicious eyes told her otherwise.

"_And you are an even bigger fool,_" he whispered, his lips brushing against hers with every word he spoke, "_because you believe I actually _have_ a heart._" With that, the Dark Lord, as he had come to be known, stepped back, his wand pointed at Willow's chest. "_Crucio!_"

"_AAHHHNGH!_" Willow cried out, dropping to the floor as the pain began. It started with a fire, building up in the caverns of her heart. It began to grow hotter, expanding and pulsing as if it were ready to explode. "_NGH! NNNAAHH!_" Willow couldn't see a thing, nor could she hear herself scream. The only thing she knew was the pain that erupted from her chest and began to burn swiftly through her veins. Willow could feel the fire race down her back, and she arched it unconsciously, as if it could expel the heat. The fire burned hotter still, filling her arms, and then her legs. She didn't notice her nails digging into her palms on both of her hands, drawing blood, or when she smeared that blood onto the floor as she scratched at it, groping for something, anything, to relieve the pain. When the fire spiralled up her throat, she choked out a distorted shriek of agony, thrashing her head from side to side as the fire seared through her skull. With one shaky hand covering his mouth, Tom released the spell, and, as he watched Willow continue to writhe on the floor from the lingering sensation, he found that he did indeed have a heart. And it was breaking.

"Say something," Tom said softly as Willow's body finally stopped writhing, her breathing returning to normal. "Will? Willow! Say something!" Tom tried to sound demanding, but it sounded more like a plea.

Willow opened her eyes slowly, and shifted them to look at Tom. "I t-told you… you love me." Most women wouldn't say that after the man in question had tortured them, but Willow knew. She could see it in his eyes, in the single tear that rolled down his cheek- though she was sure if she told him he was crying, he would only get angry and deny it.

"Do you… love me?"

The question caught Willow by surprise, and she almost said 'no', but that wasn't quite true. "I used to," she said instead, sitting herself up so that she could talk to Tom with more ease. "But… I can't love a man who doesn't even like himself, let alone _know _himself."

Tom sighed in frustration and put his wand away. "That was not the answer I wanted."

"And this was not the life I wanted. I guess in disappointment we are perfectly matched." Willow retorted, rubbing her arms as the cold set in again.

Tom walked over to his robe, and picked it up before tossing it to Willow. "Put it on. I don't want my little pet to get sick. That would not be very enjoyable." Next, he took the torch from the bracket and opened the door. "You will love me again, Willow," Tom said, closing the door and leaving Willow alone in the cold, dark cell.

_Tom_

When he was sure that the door was closed, Tom hurled the torched as hard as he could, watching as it hit the stone wall in a shower of sparks. "Why does she not love me!?" He yelled into the darkness of the corridor. Getting no reply, he growled in frustration and went up to the main floor of the old abandoned house, his 'hideout' as most called it. He supposed that was true, for the most part. It didn't really feel like a house to him. Then again, no place felt like home to Tom. "I hate feeling like this," he muttered to himself, pacing around the living room. "I wish I could just kill the wretch and get it over with," Tom grumbled. Even saying it, he knew that he could never do it. _But she's seen it,_ he thought, pulling out his wand and running his fingers along the length of it. _She's seen me kill her..._ Tom let out a frustrated groan, kicking the closest thing to him- the rabbit he had transfigured. It flew across the room in a blurry ball of fur. The rabbit hit the wall and was forced back into its regular form before it dropped to the ground.

"I have been working towards this very moment for twenty-nine years, and now that I have her, I do not even know what I am supposed to do! I've never felt so weak in my entire life! Then I have her at long last, and she is so… so much like she used to be. Radiant, intelligent… Stubborn as a mule." Tom found that the more he thought about Willow, the larger his smile became, which just infuriated the Dark Lord even more. "IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS!" He shouted, storming around the room. "DAMN HER! DAMN HER TO HELL!" Magical energy sparked through the room. Everything the magic touched began to disintegrate. The paint on the walls began to peel, the floorboard began to shrink and crack, the furniture looked as if it were being burned slowly by an invisible flame. "I am the heir of Salazar Slytherin! I have split my soul six times, I alone opened the chamber of secrets and controlled the great basilisk! I give grown men nightmares, and I have murdered and tortured muggles and magic-folk alike without a second thought… but I cannot bear to use my wand against her…" Tom couldn't think of any way around it. He couldn't have his Death Eaters torture her, because he would end up murdering them for hurting her. He couldn't do it himself, because he couldn't bare the sight of her in pain, nor could he bare the sound, or even the _thought_ of her in pain. He couldn't just let her go, either. _Not after I've spent so long searching for her,_ he thought.

Tom stood still for a moment and took in the sight of the room. It had been a wreck before, but now it just looked awful. It looked as if the room had been left alone to rot for one hundred years. The walls were beginning to cave in on each other, the floors were sinking, the ceiling was crumbling and the furniture was far beyond repair- in fact the whole room was far beyond repair. At least it would have been, to a _muggle_. "Look what you've done to me, Willow…" Tom sighed in exasperation, easily fixing the room with a quick swish of his wand. "All hail the Gaela Witch, for even the Dark Lord Voldemort bows to her," Tom said sarcastically. "If she'd just love me already, I could break her heart and get this over with…" Tom grumbled. Not knowing what else to do, he turned on his heel, disapparating to the house of one of his loyal Death Eaters, Cygnus Black.

He appeared on the doorstep to the Black house, not bothering with the formalities of entering a house that belonged to someone else. With a wave of his wand, he cast the door open and walked in, his steps echoing throughout the hall. Hearing voices coming from a room just ahead, he continued through the hall, stopping just at the doorway. A family of five sat, gathering around a dinner table. Cynus and Druela sat at either end of the table, whilst their three young daughters- Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromeda- sat along the length of the table, with their backs to the doorway. "Good evening."

All five members of the family turned their heads sharply, but Cygnus was the only one who spoke.

"M-my Lord! I was not expecting you! Otherwise I would have prepared-"

"Do not bother, Cygnus, I will not be staying long. However, I should like to speak with you alone," he said, nodding towards the females. "This subject may be a tad delicate for their ears."

"Of course, My Lord!" Cygnus stood and bowed to the Dark Lord before he turned to his wife. "Take the girls upstairs." Druela stood and bowed to the Dark Lord as well, before exiting the room, her daughters following along behind her. "We have pulled the girls out of school just as you asked, my Lord, so that we would not be suspected. Many parents have taken their children home for a few weeks. I believe we have managed to blend well. Your plan was a success, as always, my Lord."

"Not a complete success, Cygnus. Not quite."

"My Lord?"

"The girl. She is a stubborn witch." _And she knows exactly how to get under my skin, _he thought, grimacing. "I am not sure how I will break her. Even after using the Cruciatus Curse, her will holds strong… The only way to hurt her would be to break her heart, and I have absolutely no idea where to start-"

"If I may, my Lord."

Tom and Cygnus flicked their eyes to the young Bellatrix Black, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Bellatrix! Go to your room at once!"

"Perhaps we should hear the child out, Cygnus. After all, she did convince Ms. Hart to leave Hogwarts."

"Thank you, my Lord." Bellatrix smiled softly as she stepped into the room. "You are wise in every way but one, my Lord."

"Bella-!"

"Silence, Cygnus. Let her speak."

Cygnus nodded and took a few steps back, letting his daughter take his place in front of the man they feared and respected.

"As I was saying, you are wise in every way but one. You know nothing of love. Love is fragile, and needs room to grow. You cannot force someone to love you, but you _can_ trick them." Bellatrix grinned, flipping her wild hair over her shoulder. "You must be kind to her, but also strict, so that she knows she has some freedoms, but she may not leave. That will leave just enough room for her to fall in love with her. Bring her out with you, but never let her leave your side. Give her gifts, things she would cherish. She knew you long ago, did she not? Did she like you then?" Bellatrix paused just long enough for Tom to nod. "Be that person. Remind her of a time when you were both happy together. Give her a reason to _want_ to stay with you. Every day, ask her if she loves you. At first, her answer will be immediate, and it will be no. But with each passing day, you'll notice that she takes longer and longer to reply, until there comes a day when she does not reply at all. Don't ask her anymore after that day. Instead, tell her you love her, and continue telling her, until the day she says it back. And that is the day you break her heart."

Tom nodded slowly before grinning. "I like your daughter, Cygnus. She has potential." Tom said. "However… I am not quite willing to give up so much control over her just yet. She must learn to love me, but she must also bow to me."

Bella grinned, chuckling softly. "You'll take my advice, my Lord. Wait and see."

"Be careful how you talk to me in the future, Ms. Black. I might not be so accepting of your tone."

"As you wish, my Lord." Bellatrix said, stepping away and letting her father take back his place in front of the Dark Lord.

"I apologize for my daughter's blatant disrespect, my Lord! I assure you she is not usually so-"

"_Cygnus_, you bore me with your incessant blathering!" Tom growled. Cygnus stopped talking and just bowed. By the time Cygnus was standing upright again, the Dark Lord had vanished.

When he reappeared in his 'home', Tom stepped into the kitchen. It was the only room in the house that he never made use of. If he wished for a meal, he made his house elf do it. Unfortunately, he had killed the little cretin three days earlier for daring to suggest that the Dark Lord was in love with the very woman he wanted dead. Of course, all of that was entirely true… But that was beside the point.

Tom walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. In it sat a measly chunk of cheese and a bowl of wilted lettuce. He opened the freezer next, peering into the dark space. "What on earth…" He pulled a rock-hard pack of meat, sniffing it before setting it on the counter. "Is that… Chicken?" The Dark Lord squinted, poking the package with his wand. "Well, it certainly doesn't look like a chicken. But it clearly states… Oh, blast it!" Tom grumbled. "How do I open this thing?" Tom stood there for a while, watching the frozen pack of chicken, as if it would open by itself. Becoming frustrated, Tom picked up the packages and tried to tear it open, soon growing tired of that as well. He began to bang the meat against the counter, cursing, wondering how _poor_ people could put up with all of this hassle. Finally. He threw the chicken to the floor and pulled out his wand. "_Avada Kedavera!_" He shouted, shooting a green spark at the chicken, which then exploded, sending chunks of chicken flying across the room. "Oh, confound it all!" Tom stormed over to the fridge and threw the door open with such force that he barely had time to grab the small bit of cheese before the door bounced off of the wall and slammed shut.

Tom tromped down the stairs angrily, trying hard not the squeeze the cheese into oblivion in all his rage. He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before he opened the door to Willow's cell and tossed the cheese to her. Willow, having been half asleep, finally managing to become warm enough to drift off now that she had the extra robe, rubbed her eyes tiredly, jumping slightly as the cheese hit her on the cheek and bounced into her lap. "Eat it." He commanded, standing in the doorway and waiting for her to put the food in her mouth. "Eat it!" He growled impatiently.

Willow blinked as he shouted at her, feeling around in her lap for the cheese. When she found it, she picked it up and unwrapped it slowly before taking a cautionary sniff. "You couldn't have at least cooked something? This is hardly enough to keep a person alive in conditions like this," Willow complained. She figured she deserved at least a nice meal every day if she was going to be kept in her death room.

"Such trivial things are below me," Tom scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. Willow caught something else there, though- a small flicker of annoyance, followed by Tom licking his lips. "You tried, didn't you?" Willow tried not to laugh, but she couldn't stop herself.

"Do you need another taste of the Cruciatus Curse, or are you quite through?"

Willow stopped laughing, flinching at his words. She could almost feel the pain again, as he said it, and she shivered. Willow put the cheese to her mouth and began to nibble slowly, looking anywhere but at Tom. After a moment, she lowered her hands and swallowed the cheese, daring a short glance at Tom's face. "You know… I could cook for you… Or something…" Willow said softly, playing with the plastic wrap the cheese had been in. "It would be nice to be out of these chains for just an hour, a-and I could come right back when I'm done…"

Tom looked at Willow sceptically. "You wouldn't try to run away?"

"No, of course not…" _It's not like I could, anyway. This blasted collar would kill me before I could get out the door,_ she thought grumpily.

"Beg."

"_Pardon me?_"

"I said, beg. If you want to cook for me and get out of this room so badly, _beg_."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, we can do that in time, my pet, but for now, I just want you to beg."

"Go to hell!"

"Only if you come with me."

Willow growled, throwing the cheese at Tom. "Forget it. I would sooner die than beg anything of you."

"If you insist…" Tom pulled it his wand and tapped it against his thigh, tilted his head to the side slightly, his subtle threat lingering in the room for a moment. He didn't like the fact that as Willow's eyes grew wide and her form trembled it made him want to take her into his arms and shield her from- well, from himself. He almost wanted to apologize, to put his wand away and undo her chains- but he stood strong. He was a proud wizard, and he would fight against every urge Willow gave him with all of his might. For now. "Have you changed your mind?"

Willow glared at the Dark Lord and said through clenched teeth, "Please, let me come out and cook for you."

"Come, now, Willow. Say it with a little more heart."

"Why, if I had my wand I'd-" Willow bit her tongue to stop from saying more. She turned her head away from Tom and tried to let her anger and frustrations melt away. She then said, in the most polite voice she could manage. "Please, my Lord, let me come out and cook for you."

Tom grinned and waved his wand. The golden chain that dissolved until all that was left was a thick gold band that stayed around her ankle. Tom left the room and made his way back upstairs, leaving Willow to find her way out of the darkness. She smiled when she reached the main floor and breathed in deeply. The air was fresh, the light from the evening sun shone in through the room. She hadn't noticed how much time had passed, but it must have been at least a day, seeing as it had been evening when she'd left Hogwarts. Of course, it had felt much longer to her, being cooped up in the dark cell. Willow looked down at her bare feet, raising her brows when the light seemed to cause something on her anklet to flash in an odd way. She bent down and ran her hand over the surface of the gold, which she thought would have been smooth. When she felt rivets in the gold, she turned the thick band this way and that, trying to see what was on it. Her face lit up when she realized that her parent's portraits were engraved into the gold. _That's right,_ she thought. _This is still technically my locket, after all… just in a different form._ Willow smiled when she realized that her parents much have been on the shackle as well. She still had them with her, at least.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked, looking back at willow.

"Nothing, my Lord!" Willow shot up straight, dusting off her robes. "Just looking at your floors. They're so filthy!" She exclaimed, hoping beyond hope that Tom didn't realize that she had found something to bring her comfort in her new life.

Tom eyed Willow suspiciously, looking from her, to his floors. "If you're trying to make more excuses for me to keep you up her, don't bother."

"Of course, my Lord." Willow readily agreed. _Anything to make sure he doesn't take my parents from me,_ she thought.

Tom wondered why Willow was so quick to please him now, saying 'my Lord' every time she spoke, not complaining, or arguing with him, but he passed it off as her just being happy to be out of her cold, dark cell. Meanwhile, Willow was slowly forming an idea- something to help her get out- at least for a few hours. One look inside the fridge was enough to set her plan in motion.

"I'll need to go shopping." She said.

"What for?"

"For food, my Lord. You have none."

"You are not leaving this house."

"Please, my Lord. You can't really transfigure something into food- it just doesn't taste right. I will use my own money. You can have someone accompany me, if you must."

Tom was a smart man. He knew that Willow was up to something- but she was right. There was no food in the house- except for wilted lettuce, dirty cheese that was still somewhere downstairs, and exploded chunks of frozen chicken that were still lying on the floor. "Fine." He said with a sigh. He would rather go with her himself, but being the Dark Lord and all… it was best that he _not_ be seen in public.

"Thank you, my Lord." _I just hope I can pull this off_.


	5. Betrayal Cuts Deep

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Betrayal Cuts Deep

_Willow_

Willow had never been to Knockturn Alley before. She'd heard a lot of stories about it, though. So, as she stepped into the alley, she shook with fear. It didn't help that Abraxas Malfoy accompanied her, or that Knockturn Alley actually looked a lot worse than she'd thought it would. _He must have had his son question me,_ she thought as Abraxas stepped up beside her, remembering the young Lucius Malfoy. Willow looked over her shoulder at Abraxas. He looked very much like his son. Pale skin, sharp blue eyes. Only his hair was not as fine as Lucius'. That must have come from his mother.

"Why are you staring at me?" Abraxas asked, catching Willow studying him.

"I just... You are so _very_ attractive." Willow said, pushing aside her fear to try and set her plan into motion. Hopefully the Mrs. Malfoy was long gone- or ugly. Willow could work with either.

"Well, I always did have a way with the witches," Abraxas bragged, a small blush forming on his cheeks. He seemed to like the attention, and Willow figured she could use that to her advantage.

"Oh, I do not doubt that, Mr. Malfoy. You must have had them fumbling over their cauldrons for you. I bet you still do." Willow smiled seductively, allowing Abraxas to catch her glancing a little _lower_ than she should have been.

"Please, call me Abraxas." He drawled, letting his eyes linger over her body in turn.

"_Abraxas..._ It's such a _powerful_ name," Willow said in the most mature, sultry voice her nineteen-year-old vocal chords would allow. "Did you know that the name Abraxas was often carved on ancient stone amulets? It was a name with such power that engraved on the amulet with it would be a Basilisk, or a Chimaera."

"Is that so?" Abraxas grinned, his ego beginning to build up rather nicely.

"I've always liked _large snakes_," Willow whispered, stepping closer to Abraxas.

"Would you like to pet mine?" Abraxas asked, sliding his hands around Willow's hips.

"Oh, I would like very much to... But not here. Could you go and find us an Inn? I'll go buy us a dew things to make things... _fun._"

Abraxas paused, his attraction towards Willow battling with his loyalty to the Dark Lord. He knew that he was not supposed to leave Willow's side, yet the stirring in his pants urged him to go find a room. "I'll be quick," He promised, running his hand over Willow's rump and giving it a firm squeeze before he left her on her own.

Willow sighed in relief. "Ahh, finally. I suppose you can only be born with one of two things. A brain, or a penis..." Willow giggled softly before she continued through Knockturn Alley, trying her best to blend in with the umbrageous witches and wizards that skulked the streets. First, she bought a beautiful dark cloak, throwing it over her shoulders and pulling the hood up to hide her face. She was certain that Tom would have spies all over, and she couldn't risk being seen. Willow tucked her bag of galleons into the endless pocket that was sewn into her cloak and scanned the shops. "_Kitty's Cauldron- for all your deceitful needs_... Well, it's worth a shot."

Stepping into the shop was like going from creepy- to creepier. The shop smelled, but it was not a smell Willow could recognize. If she had to use any word to describe the smell, she would not hesitate to say 'evil'. She knew that it was insane- evil wasn't a _smell_, but that was what came to mind when she breathed in the fumes from the shop. There were two windows, one on either side of the door. Spiders, bats and rats alike lived in the shop. There were puddles of spilled potions here and there. They must have been dangerous, as all of the little critters seemed to go out of their way to go around them. Willow did the same, making sure to pick up her cloak so that it didn't pick up anything from the dirty floor. Reading the labels on the potions, Willow was shocked. _Tardus Homicidium- for a slow death. Purus Cruciatus- for pure torture. Venenosa Sanguis- turns blood into poison._ Willow had never heard of any of these potions. She nearly jumped out of her cloak when she spotted the decrepit old witch. "Hello," Willow said, slowly walking over to the woman. She had approximately ten strands of shrivelled grey hair. Her eyes were covered in a milky film so thick that Willow couldn't tell which colour her eyes were. Her nails were black, her skin was yellow, and her breath smelled worse than her potions. "Are you... Kitty?"

"Kitranthia Woodlum," She said with a slow nod. "You are not from these parts, are you?"

"I-"

"Do not bother with excuses, child. I am too old and tired to care anymore," she said, hobbling towards a long, dirty counter at the back of the shop. "Why, in my younger days I'd have taken your hair, perhaps your blood, in exchange for my secrecy. You are a Gaela, are you not? I can tell. Such a nice smell you have..."

Willow tried to control her shaking. _She can _smell_ me?_ Willow forced herself to follow the woman.

"So, what is it you want? I can give you a potion to explode someone's heart- or perhaps you would like a potion to steal all of their years and make them as old and crippled as I am?" The woman's laughter was weak, and ended in a round of coughing.

"I just need a sleeping-draught."

Willow couldn't see much of the woman's eyes, but she was most certainly glaring at her.

"Such simple things are beneath me."

"I'll give you a lock of my hair," Willow offered. "Please, Kitranthia..."

"Let me touch it."

Willow bit her lip. She really didn't want 'Kitty' to touch her hair, but she needed the potion- it was the key item for her plan. The lowered her hood and stepped closer to the woman, kneeling down in front of her. Willow cringed when she felt the woman's cold, bony fingers run over her hair, but she managed to settle herself down enough to let the woman examine her hair.

"Yes, so soft... very rich. You are fifty-six, I see. Only half Gaela, but I can work with that." The woman grasped Willow's hair with one hand, and took her wand in the other, using magic to cut a thick lock of Willow's hair. "I can make you a potion to make your hair grow back, but it may not take effect for a while. I do not know how my potions will fair with you. But for that... I'll need a tear."

"I cannot manage a tear just like that!"

Kitranthia laughed darkly as Willow stood up. "You do not have to, my dear. I can do it for you!" The woman reached up and grasped Willow's head, pressing her nails inter her skull.

"Ouch! That isn't going to work-"

Willow blinked as the world shifted. She looked around her as her head began to settle. The woman was gone, and Willow was alone in a beautiful room, decorated with antique Victorian furniture. The walls were a warm burgundy and were liked with ornate picture frames. Stepping closer to one of the pictures, Willow saw herself in the arms of a man who looked very familiar, but couldn't possibly be-

"Good evening, Mrs. Riddle."

Willow turned around as she heard the voice. It definitely belonged to the man she was thinking about, but it, like the picture, was different. There stood Tom, carrying a bouquet of red roses. It was definitely him. It had to be. He hard the same, dark hair, the same deep eyes, the same figure. But at the same time, it wasn't him. He had a genuine smile, his eyes were soft and full of fondness for the woman he was gazing upon, and his posture was welcoming. "M-my Lord?"

Tom quirked his brow and chuckled softly. "Lord? What are you going on about?" Tom handed the roses over to Willow before he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. "Unless this is a game you want to play," Tom said with a toothy grin. "My Lady," he said in a husky voice, bowing and taking Willow's hand to place another soft kiss upon it. Willow stood motionless, Tom's actions taking her by surprise. When she didn't react, Tom stood up straight, worry clear on his face. "Are you alright, Will?" Tom's eyes suddenly filled with realization and his eyes shot down to look at something in front of Willow's stomach. "Is it the baby?"

"Mommy, are we playing statues? Why didn't you tell me?!"

Willow's gaze shifted to the small child who had just entered the room. She had long, dark hair the same colour as Tom's, and bright green eyes that reminded Willow of her own. Suddenly, she realized what was happening, putting all of the pieces together. _'Good evening, Mrs. Riddle', 'Is it the baby?', 'Mommy, are we playing statues?'._ "T-Tom..?"

"I am right here, love. Do we need to go to the hospital? I know we can't apparate, but if we're careful we can use the brooms. Oh, but the brooms aren't strong enough for the three of us, you can't ride like that, there's no one to watch Thalia-"

"Thalia..." Willow had always wanted to name her daughter Thalia- if she ever had one.

"I'm right here, Mommy. Daddy, why is Mommy being silly?"

"Willow, tell me what we need to do!"

"N-nothing. I'm fine." Willow placed a hand on her stomach, her eyes widening when she realized there was a rather large bump there. Tom placed his hand over Willow's, smiling as the little wizard growing inside gave a small kick. Willow couldn't stop the tears that began to flow freely down her cheeks. Tom looked into Willow's eyes and smiled softly, wiping away her tears.

"I know... it's hard to believe, isn't it? Everything is just so... perfect." Tom pressed his lips affectionately against Willow's forehead before gently brushing her hair behind her ear. "I love you, so much."

Willow had been about to say 'I love you, too,' when the world shifted again and she was back in the old, smelly shop. Kitranthia had pulled her hands away and was grinning, holding a vial full of shimmering liquid- Willow's tears of happiness. More tears began to flow now, only this time they were tears of anger- of anguish.

"Send me back! Give me back my family!" She sobbed, falling to her knees. "Give me back my happiness..."

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

"What did you do to me?"

The old woman smirked, reaching down with another vial to collect Willow's tears of sadness. As they dropped into the vial they seemed to emit a dark glow. "I gave you a taste of pure happiness. Everything you have ever dreamed of having- that was it. A growing family, the love of your life. It is something you believe you will never have, but something you long for daily."

"I want to go back..."

"We all do, child. However, we cannot live in an imaginary world for ever. Now, get up. I will get your potions."

Willow waited until the woman had disappeared before she slowly pulled herself up, wiping away the last of her tears. _If I had stayed at the orphanage, would that have been my life..?_ Willow wondered as she pulled her hood back over her head. _No. I would have died. Elliot would never lie to me_, Willow decided. As hard as she tried to push the thoughts aside, she could not. "Damn it! I could want anything, _anything in the world_, but it had to be _him_!"

"That is the way of the world, my dear. Here you are. I must thank you- I haven't had such potent tears in ages."

Willow nodded, wanting to get out of there as fast as she could. She put the potions carefully inside her endless pocket and left the shop. She worked quickly then, unsure of how much time had been wasted in Kitranthia's shop. She purchased anything and everything she thought she would need, from chicken, to dragon-fire bread, to pickled mermaid-tail, to green beans. She bought a few things she had only heard about, such as self replenishing hippogriff milk and whomping willow syrup. She kept these items in bags, not wanting to draw attention to her cloak, and it's pocket. She did buy one last item to put inside her pocket, though, and that was a hand-me-down broom, another part of her plan. When Abraxas came back, Willow followed him back to the Inn where she offered him a chocolate galleon with a small drop of her sleeping-draught. "You really are quite an idiot," Willow said after he had fallen asleep trying to disrobe himself. Willow took his wand, using magic to lift Abraxas up onto the bed. Next, she began tampering with his memories, making him believe he had come to the Inn with some other girl who had given him a sleeping potion and stolen his money. Willow searched him for any money he had left and put it in her pocket, thinking over what she would say to Tom when he got there. Quickly, she drank the potion that would make her lock of hair grow back and then tugged up Abraxas' sleeve, pressing his wand to his Dark Mark.

Tom was there within seconds, his face contorted with anger. "Abraxas, if you lost her, I swear on my own grave that I-"

"T- I mean, my Lord, I am not lost."

Tom looked at Willow, then at Abraxas, who was still lying unconscious on the bed. "Wake up, you insufferable dolt!" Tom snarled, knocking the sleeping wizard off of the bed. Abraxas just rolled over, pulling the sheets off of the bed and cuddling with them.

"I tried to wake him, my Lord, but could not. I thought it best to call you. I think he's been given a potion. When I found him, he looked as if he had been robbed."

Tom turned a scrutinizing eye to Willow, trying to detect any hint of a lie, but Willow had been telling lies since she could talk, and she had mastered the art. "He always was overly fond of the ladies," Tom grumbled, wondering why his Death Eaters were such idiots at times. "Next time you come out to shop, I will have to send a few more... just to be sure. Perhaps a woman, next time... Come. We will leave him here."

Willow nodded and gripped Tom's arm tightly, holding her bags in her other hand. Once again, they rode the wind in a thick, black smoke, to Tom's hideout.

"You have exactly one hour. You may eat with me, but then you will go back downstairs."

"Of course, my Lord."

Willow didn't waist her time. She put everything away quickly, except the things she had decided to use in the meal. Using magic to make things faster, Willow cooked and sliced some ham, using the whomping willow syrup to create a glaze. She put the ham on top of some warm dragon-fire bread, and put some sauteed beans on the plate as well. She made sure to secretively add a small drop of the sleeping-draught to Tom's syrup before she served him his dinner with a nice, cold glass of hippogriff milk. After Tom had started eating, Willow prepared her own plate and sat down with him. It would take a moment for the draught to work, and Willow wanted to appear as casual as she could, not wanting to raise any suspicions, though she was sure she had already raised a few.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Tom asked after taking the last drink from his cup, his plate also empty.

"Elliot taught me, mostly. I spent a bit of time in the kitchen with the elves when I was attending Hogwarts."

"Why... would you..." Tom's eyes started to close slowly, but he forced them open. "I think... I'd better get you downstairs," he mumbled, trying to stand up. He almost fell over, but managed to use his chair to balance himself. "C-come help me..." Tom demanded. It didn't sound all that much like a demand, but Willow played her part, walking over and letting Tom throw his arm over her shoulder. She should have known better. Tom never asked for help- even as a child. He grasped her shoulder tightly and sat back down on the chair, forcing her on his lap. He used his other hand to search her. Soon, he found the lock of hair that was much shorter than all the others. "I knew it... you... tricked..." Tom passed out then, his grip slacking. Willow sighed in relief and stood. She looked at Tom and froze. Sleeping, he looked almost exactly like the Tom Kitranthia had shown her. Willow placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it gently with her thumb. "I know you're in there..." She whispered, leaning over and placing a feather-light kiss on Tom's lips. "I'll get you out."

Willow pulled herself away from Tom. She tried to tell herself that when he woke up, he would be the same, dark wizard, but her heart wouldn't have any of that. It told her to stay with Tom, while the moment lasted, while his walls were down. But hearts could be foolish, and Willow knew that. So, though it almost made her cry, she left the house, her cloak tight around her shoulders, and pulled out her broom, climbing on and kicking off of the ground. She used wandless magic to cast a simple navigation spell and was off to Lovat Lane. She had to see Elliot. To tell him she was alright, but also to ask him some questions. For some reason, she just couldn't get out of her head that he might have lied to her. Surely she would not have died if she had gone back. She could have survived, at least until Tom came back. She could have told him the truth, they could have run away together. Willow shook her head. _He wouldn't lie to me. I know he wouldn't._ Willow also knew that Gaela were excellent liars. It was the only way her plan cold have worked, the only way she managed to survive the first thirty-three years of her life.

Her mind was a complete wreck by the time she touched down on Elliot's front step and knocked on the door, looking around to make sure that nobody had seen her.

When Elliot answered the door, Willow ran into his arms, embracing him tightly. "Oh, Elliot! I don't know what to do!"

Elliot didn't seem surprised to see her. "I saw you coming. Come in and sit down. I recon you still have a few hours before you have to leave."

Willow followed Elliot into the sitting room and set her broom against the wall. Hot tea was already set out, and the warm blanket that Elliot had always wrapped Willow in to comfort her was draped over the couch. They sat down together and Willow pulled the blanket around herself while Elliot poured the tea.

"You told me I was safe at Hogwarts."

"You were. You left."

"Because they were going to kill you! I could not let that happen!"

"Willow, did you ever stop to think about it? I told you... My death will be accompanied by howls."

Willow's mouth gaped open. "I- How could I forget- I'm such an idiot!" Willow banged her fist on the table, causing some tea to slosh out of the mug.

"Now, now... You were afraid."

Willow nodded, sighing when she realized she would have to ask the question. She would hate herself if she didn't. "When you talked to me that night... the night I ran away... What did you see? How did I die?"

Elliot, about to take a sip of his tea, paused. "I thought I told you."

"No, you only said if I encountered Tom again, I would die. You never said how."

Elliot put his tea down. "Well, he would kill you, of course."

"Who? Tom?"

"Who else?"

It didn't make sense. Tom would never have been angry with her if she hadn't left. "Are you sure?"

"Have I ever lied to you, Willow?"

Willow wasn't so sure anymore. She let the blanket drop off of her shoulders and stood. "I should go."

"No!" Elliot said, much to quickly. "What I meant to say is, you've only just arrived. Surely there is no harm in you staying another hour."

"I knew it! You lied to me! You've been lying to me for years!" Willow shouted, stepping away from her 'friend'. "What did you _really_ see that night?"

"Willow, I told you-"

"LIAR!" Willow growled, grabbing her broom. "I'm leaving."

"Willow, if you leave now, I'll die!"

"Die, for all I care!"

Elliot sighed, pulling out a 1955 Colt Python and pointing it at Willow. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, but... If you don't die... I will. And I can't have that."

Willow froze, heartbreak and betrayal clear on her face.

"Do you want to know what I saw that day? I saw you and Tom together, a little girl by your side, a baby growing inside of you. I was so jealous- so angry that _you_ should have the perfect life, just like that. I had been running for two-hundred years, and you- you fall in love and get your happily ever after, you die of old age. Why should you, who had only lived twenty-six years by the time your fate was decided, have a happy ending that _I_ deserve? I convinced you to come with me by the time you were twenty-eight, to stay away from _him._ I tried to build that happy ending for _us,_ but you just wouldn't let that happen. Fate kept trying to get you and him together. You have know idea how _hard_ I had to try to keep you apart. At last, when I'd convinced you to go for that interview at Hogwarts, I thought you'd smarten up, head my warnings. Now, you've fucked up everything so much that you've put my life on the line. If I kill you now, I can slip away, and your _beloved_ will be far too heartbroken to look for me. He'll kill himself. But, if you live, he kills _me_. I'm not about to let that happen."

"You disgust me."

"Get used to it, puppet."

She didn't realize how much she was hurting until she closed her eyes and actually thought about it. Elliot had been by her side ever since she was twenty-eight. He had been like a father to her- at least, that's what she had thought. Now, to be betrayed by the man who had provided her with her first stable him since her father had died stung worse than she could have ever imagined. When willow heard a sharp _crack_, she took what she thought was her last breath. Only it didn't come. Instead, she was pushed aside. A flash of green light was sent flying towards Elliot, hitting him square in the chest. Willow turned to look at her saviour, almost bursting into tears when she saw Tom standing there, angrier than she had ever seen him. Realizing that the crack must have been Tom apparating, Willow stood and ran to him, clutching his robes and burying her face in his neck. "I'm so sorry!" Willow's muffled voice said. Tom pushed her away and she felt the collar she had almost forgotten about tighten around her neck.

"You _stupid_ girl! You thought that you could slip a sleeping-draught into my food and just sneak away? I _knew_ that you were up to something. You are far to stubborn to give in to my requests so quickly, even after I used the Cruciatus Curse on you. Well, trust me, _Willow_, after this little stunt you pulled, that won't be the last time you taste that curse-"

"Just take me home. With you. _Please_..."

Tom found that he could not refuse her request. Even in his anger, he loved her, and the way she said '_home_' and '_with you_' set his hear a-flutter. He sighed, frustrated with himself for giving in so easily. "Put the broom down. You'll not be escaping again."

Willow threw the broom to the ground and ran into Tom's arms, holding him tightly as they turned to smoke.

Willow wasn't surprised that when they got home, Tom made her hand over the cloak. He emptied the contents of the endless pocket, putting the sleeping-draught away, sealing it with magic so that Willow could not get to it. He then removed the pocket from the cloak and handed it back to Willow. "Keep it. For when you go out. But remember... I will have eyes on you _everywhere_ from now on." Tom then took her downstairs and into the cold stone room, using his wand to light the way. With a wave of his wand, the gold band expanded again, becoming the thick, golden shackle from before, and once again digging itself into the floor at the very centre of the room and extending just long enough for Willow to reach each corner of the room. This time, Willow moved her hand down to the shackle, tracing her fingers over the engraved portraits of her parents, trying not to smile and give away any sign of happiness. "You tricked me, Willow. It won't happen again. I'll be expecting it now. Any change in your attitude, and I'll notice." Tom wanted so badly to be furious with her, to punish her, to torture her, but he was at war with himself. Part of him said he should take her upstairs and give her every comfort he could think of. The exact opposite part told him to torture her until she screamed every time he so much as looked at her. In the end, he decided to just leave her there. Before he left, however, he asked her a single question. "Do you love me?"

Willow took a long time to answer. After seeing her desires, what her life could have been, she knew that she loved Tom. She loved him more than she ever had. _But this is still not Tom. Not really._ Willow shook her head slowly. "I love Tom Riddle."

"_Tom Riddle doesn't exist_ ." He snapped, slamming the door. But if that were true, if Tom Riddle really didn't exist anymore... Why did he still love her?


	6. A Day of Sacrifice

A/N: This chapter contains rape, violence, torture, humiliation, and other things not fit for the faint of heart. If you can't handle reading about those things, please discontinue reading... I think the next few chapters are going to have A LOT of it. :/

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CHAPTER SIX

___Completely His_

* * *

Tom stood outside of platform nine and three-quarters with a beautiful eleven year-old girl. Her long, dark hair hung down to her waist, and her bright green eyes were full of excitement- and fear. She hugged a furry white and black cat- Moo- close to her chest and looked up at her parents. "I'm ready." She said after taking a deep breath. She handed the cat to Tom and took a hold of the trolley, running straight into the wall between platforms nine and ten. When the last of their daughter disappeared into the wall, Willow and Tom followed her, their son clinging shyly to Tom's robes. Stepping through to the other side, Tom smiled, remembering all too well his first time on the Hogwarts Express. He walked over to his daughter and embraced her, handing her little kitten back to her.

"I love you, Thalia." He said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and then scratching the cat gently between its ears.

The little boy came running over, hugging his older sister tightly. "Don't go, Thaya!"

"It's okay, T.J., she'll be back before you know it." Willow said, stepping over to kiss the top of her daughter's head and picking up Tom Junior.

"I'm scared, Mom..." Thalia said, looking around at the other children saying goodbye to their parents.

Willow smiled softly and hugged her daughter tightly with one arm, balancing her son in the other. "Your father and I will write you every week. It will be Christmas break in a flash." Willow looked up as the train's whistle blew. "Time to go..."

Thalia nodded and kissed her parents and little brother before she climbed onto the train with her belongings, waving goodbye as the train began to move away…

Tom's eyes shot open and he sat up in his bed. The dream had seemed so real, so possible. Tom had never had good dreams before- in fact, he rarely dreamt at all. He didn't understand why he was suddenly so sad, why he wanted so badly to go back to sleep when he felt wide awake. He shook his head and stepped out of his bed, quickly dressing himself. As hard as he tried that morning, he could not get the images from the dream out of his head. It was obviously him. Though, it was a different part of him. A happy part. And Willow had been in it. She looked radiant- happier than he had ever seen her before. And the two children. Tom didn't know why, but he felt sorry for them. Sorry that they did not exist, that they may never get the chance.

What neither Tom nor Willow knew, was that Kitranthia- scheming witch that she was, had put a drop of Willow's tears into the sleeping-draught. As Abraxas hadn't been involved in Willow's desires, all he would feel is a need to be around her. Tom, being one of the main objects of Willow's desires, would experience every coveting thought that she did. Feeling that Willow was to blame, which she technically was, Tom became angry.

"What has that witch put in my food now? Something to make me delusional?" Tom growled, gripping his wand. She was meddling in things she shouldn't, and he would make her pay. Only, when he found himself in front of the door to her cell, he faltered. She had been so lovely in his dream, and he was wary. Looking at her, how different she would be from the way he wanted to see her- he didn't know what to do. Slowly, he opened the door and peeked inside. Willow was fast asleep, huddled in the Tom's old robe, as well as the beautiful- now wrinkled- cloak she had gotten herself.

With a swift flick of his wand, a ball of Lumos appeared, hovering in the center of the room. Willow's eyes slowly opened, the light just bright enough to rouse her. She yawned, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes, unused to the light after being kept in the dark for so long. She grumbled as she tried to move. Her bones were stiff from lying on the hard ground. "I don't suppose you'll give me a bed?" She asked, after finally managing to pull herself upright. Willow was glad he was there. He hadn't been down to see her in days. She was starving, weak, and in desperate need of a bath. She knew it was his anger at her that had kept him away from her for so long, and figured it was anger that brought him here now. It was all Tom knew.

"No. Not unless you share mine." he said with a grin, trying hard to hide his emotions from her. He would not let her know how the state she was in made him feel. He would not let her think she had any power over his emotions.

"The floor it is, then." She mumbled.

"Stand up." Tom ordered, leaning against the stone wall of the room. He watched as she tried to stand, only to fall back into the pile of cloaks beneath her. "You are pathetic and weak," he spat.

"Only because you make me so!" Willow retorted, this time using the wall to brace herself as she stood. "I have not eaten in days, and the little water that appears by the door each morning is hardly enough to sustain me! You force me to sleep in this cold, hard place, and it drains me more and more each day. It's a wonder I can even ___speak_. It is you who is weak, if you must chain an innocent woman in a dungeon to get what you desire."

Tom growled angrily, and the collar responded, shocking the fragile young woman and making her fall once again to the hard floor, cushioned only by the thin fabric of the cloaks. She gasped, her body jerking violently until Tom's anger was sated, and the collar ceased its punishment. While he hated to see her in pain, there was a darker, more sadistic side of him that longed to watch her writhe in agony. In his anger, that side of him was stronger.

"When you can manage to get up and drag yourself up the stairs, it's bath time," the Dark Lord looked at her libidinously. Thus far, he had controlled his urges, but he wanted her. Owning her wasn't enough. The Dark Lord's lust for control spiraled his desire, he needed to take her, make her his own. Completely his own. And then he would mark her. Force upon her the mark of his followers. The part of him that loved her- that weak, revolting part that she had corrupted- wanted only for her to love him. ___Tom Riddle, you are no match for me, _he thought as he left the room, chortling darkly as he heard Willow's struggled attempts to follow him.

It took her a while, but Willow sighed in relief as she finally reached the top step. She could not bring herself to stand, and had therefore crawled the entire way. Her knees were bruised, her hands scraped and raw from crawling across the rough stone. Tom was waiting for her at the top of the step, a scowl darkening his face. "You know I am an impatient man, Willow." he hissed, bending down to grip her chin. Willow winced as he dig his nails into her flesh, sure that he had drawn blood. She gasped in pain as the wizard moved his hand lower, clasping it around her neck. His grip tightened as he lifted her to her feet, her hands clawing weakly at his own. "I tire of waiting. Waiting for you to realize that your life could be easier if you just… ___participate_. You vacuously believe that you will bring out a better man in me. ___There is no better man_, Willow."

Black dots formed in Willow's vision, the lack of oxygen making her body shut down. Before the blackness consumed her, she felt his grip slacken, and a new pain begin. Her hair. He was pulling her hair. When she woke, it was to a sharp pain on her cheek, and a dull ache on her head. She could taste blood in her mouth, the salty, copper liquid making her nauseous. Her back was rested against a wall, and Tom stood before her, but they were no longer by the stairway. They were in a sterile, bright room. The bathroom. Willow raised a trembling had to her cheek. It was hot, and it stung horribly. ___He struck me, _she thought, wincing as she stroked her tender cheek. ___He pulled me here by my hair, and he struck me_. Willow recalled him grasping firmly as her locks before she had fainted, and the ache she felt on her scalp was surely because he had dragged her limp body there.

"You struck me-" Willow barely got the words out before his hand collided with her cheek once more, the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh sounding through the bathroom, echoing off the tiled walls. She cried out as the sharp pain cut across her cheek, the already tender flesh burning, bringing tears to her eyes.

"If I recall correctly, I owe you one more," the Dark Lord's lips turned up in a spiteful grin. Willow remembered the day he'd taken her. She had slapped him, thrice, once across one cheek, and twice across the other. Willow hoped that if Tom struck her again, he would chose her other cheek. He did not, however, and the strength of his third and final strike had her sprawled on the floor, saliva, mixed with her own blood spilling from her mouth and across the crisp, white tile of the bathroom floor.

Tom moved around her and turned a knob on the wall. Instantly, cold water began to spray over Willow's body. It wasn't until the frigid water fell upon her that she realized she was naked. She was naked, and Tom was the cause. He had seen her body, and was undoubtedly still looking upon her. She doubted that she looked attractive, laying on the floor, trembling weakly as the water cascaded over her form. It wasn't until the water had grown hot, searing to her skin after knowing nothing but cold since she'd been taken by Tom, that the man joined her under the spray. She could not see him through the constant flow of water, but she knew he would be nude, as she was.

Soon, her body became used to the searing heat of the water, and what had once seemed a nearly unbearable heat became a welcomed warmth that began to sooth her aching muscles. Slowly, Willow pushed herself up, careful not to let her hand slip on the wet tile, and sat up, once again resting her back against the wall.

"Wash," Tom said, his voice slightly muffled by the rush of water, the sound of it splattering against the tiles. Willow felt something slippery drop into her lap. Soap. She longed to be clean, and only hoped she had the energy to do it. Tom would be mad if she couldn't. He would not lower himself to help her, and Willow needed to feel clean again. She groaned, in both pain and pleasure, as she ran the bar over her skin, scrubbing as hard as she could to get rid of the filth that had built up over the days. After she was done soaping, she felt another object drop into her lap. She looked down at the bottle of shampoo and smiled, quickly applying it to her hair, working it through the tangled mass. Once she was certain her hair was detangled and clean, she attempted to stand, Tom's strong arm snaking out to catch her around the waist as she slipped. "Clumsy girl," he growled, shifting her further into the spray of water so that the shampoo would wash out of her locks.

Her faced reddened as she realized that they were touching, her skin flush against his. She didn't try to break free, even though her mind urged her too. ___I am far too weak,_she reasoned, though she was sure that was only part of it.

Tom, noticing Willow's reaction to him, turned her so that her back was against his chest. "Remember when I came to you in your mirror?" He murmured softly, making sure that his mouth was close to her ear so that she could hear him over the water. "I thought about that night every day during the months I waited for you to come to me. How your nipples hardened at the very thought of me touching you, like this," Tom trailed his hand slowly up her stomach, inching toward her breasts. "I wished I had been there, so that I could feel them, feel how you _y____earned _for me, as you do now," he continued, his hand glazing over the supple curve of her left breast.

"I do not," she protested, her voice weak.

"Liar," he hissed, running his free hand over her water-slicked skin. Willow trembled beneath him, a deep fear growing with in her.

"S-stop…" She pleaded, trying to pull away from the Dark Lord. He held fast to her, his attentions becoming a bit more rough as she struggled against him. "___Please_, my Lord," she whimpered. Willow, seeming to find some of her strength, struggled harder against him, her exertion only seeming to arouse the Dark Lord further. Turning her once more, Tom grasped her hips and lifted her up, shoving her roughly against the wall. He pressed his weight against her to hold her to the wall. One hand ran hungrily over Willow's bruised flesh, sliding over her breast and stroking her collar bone, dangerously close to Willow's neck. She knew, in his own way, he was threatening her. He could quite easily move his hand to her throat and cut off her air supply. She was sure he would take her whether she was awake or not.

Tom's other hand slid over Willow's thigh, harshly squeezing her plush bottom. His eyes greedily took in the sight of her. Her dark auburn locks fell freely over her face, the ends, while wet, hanging past her breasts, seeming to cling to her body in their soaked state. Long, black lashes clumped together, the deep, crimson print of his hand a sharp contrast on her otherwise pale cheek. Her neck, bruised from the many times his hands had sought it out, the enchanted ribbon still perfectly in place. Below her neck were many more bruises, but not enough for the Dark Lord. Not nearly.

Tom pressed his lips against the fair, creamy skin of one of Willow's breasts, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth and catching it between his teeth. Willow closed her eyes, the force of his bite making her cry out in pain, which spurred him to bite down harder, until he broke the skin. The faint taste of his slave's blood caused Tom to shudder in delight, and he pulled back to view his artwork before moving back in and marking her again, drawing another delectably agonized cry from Willow. Over and over he left his mark upon her, until there was at least one mark for every square inch of her flesh, until the flow of Willow's tears joined that of the shower.

"Tom, please, don't do this," she begged, her eyes opening for the first time since he had laid his teeth upon her. Her green irises, bright with fear, gazed at him pleadingly.

"___Tom's not here anymore,_" he growled, letting the hand he held at her collar bone slide up to her neck as took her. Voldemort groaned in pleasure, the sheer triumph of finally having her driving him mad with an angry passion. The pain of Tom roughly taking her incited a grotesque and torturous shriek from Willow. Despite the pain, she could feel the pleasure building. Needing something to grab into, Willow threw her arms over Tom's shoulders, her fingers scraping over his smooth back.

Tom pulled out of her and reached behind himself, grasping both of her wrists with one of his hands, the other still firmly grasping her rear, keeping her up. Holding her wrists above her head, Tom pulled away from her just enough so that he could see her.

"Why did you-" Willow asked, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, the burning need for release making her ache.

"I want you to beg for me," Tom said gruffly, his voice hoarse with pleasure. He pressed his forehead to hers, his dark orbs locking with her vibrant greens. "Beg for me to take you, to finish inside of you."

Willow clenched her eyes shut, the stubborn side of her wanting nothing more than to lash out at the man for suggesting that she lower herself to begging. Begging for the sake of her virginity was one thing, begging for climax was another. The other, aroused part of her believed that her pride didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was her release.

"Please," Willow began, opening her eyes and staring into his once more, "Don't be a fool," she finished, the look of pleasure on her face quickly changing to that of anger.

Tom growled in frustration. "You are the fool!" He spat, the ribbon tightening around Willow's throat. "You will beg, Willow, or I will finish while using the ___Cruciatus _on you. Your choice," he hissed, hoping she would chose to beg. He longed to hear her beg for him. Also, the 'Tom' in him, the little piece of him that Willow had defiled, did not want to see her like that again. "Even if I can't break that spirit of yours today, I ___will _break it."

"You are a ___sick, sadistic, pathetic _excuse for a man," Willow retorted, her voice trembling with anger. "And you may break me, but not today," Willow said through clenched teeth. She closed her eyes again and Tom summoned his wand, releasing his hold on her wrists so that he could catch it. "___Not today_," She repeated as he pressed the tip of his wand to her chest, and the fire began.

It was a struggle, but the Dark Lord managed to hold Willow's writhing body against the wall. Finishing quickly, he released the curse as he pulled out of her, letting her drop to the floor with a loud, wet smack. Tom bent down over her and grabbed her left arm, pressing the sharpened nail of his thumb into her flesh. After breaking the skin, Tom lifted his wand to Willow's arm and forced the tip roughly into her fresh wound, drawing out a pained whimper from the nearly unconscious witch. The Dark Lord muttered a long incantation. The blood that pooled around his wand began to move in thin, precise lines over Willow's arm. Once Willow's own blood had traced a crimson Dark Mark upon her arm, it began to sizzle and melt into her skin with a loud hiss. Tom pulled his wand out of her wound, and a thick, black smoke spiraled from its tip, snaking around Willow's arm before slithering into her wound. The smoke filled the lines of the mark, turning the angry crimson into a smoky black. Her skin seemed to ripple as the last of the smoke disappeared into her arm, the Dark Mark seeming to come alive.

Before he moved away from her, Tom ran his tongue over the length of her wound, the taste of her now tainted blood enveloping his mouth. Tom stood then and turned off the water, which had started to tun cold, and left willow, unconscious, on the floor, blood and a mix of their fluids seeping past her lips and dripping onto the floor, only to be drained away with the rest of the water.

Willow's eyes fluttered open. The first thing she noticed was that she was cold- freezing, actually. She drew her leg's to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, trying to conserve her body heat. The second thing she noticed was that she was still in the bathroom, lying naked on floor. How long had she been there, unconscious and wet? The third and final thing she noticed was the mark that spread over the entire length of her forearm. Willow paled at the sight of it. Last she remembered, the searing pain of the Cruciatus curse had been searing through her, and then everything went black. Bite marks, scratches, bruises- those meant nothing. They would fade with time, leaving behind nothing. But the mark- the mark of her master- was permanent.

Crying out in anger, as well as humiliation as she realized how very weak she was, Willow tried to rake her nails across the mark. She didn't want it, didn't want the constant reminder that she was his. Ignorance truly was her only bliss at this point in her life, and it was hard to ignore the horrific mark that now marred her skin, that tainted her. The sharp pain as she clawed at her arm in an utmost animalistic manner pleased her, until she realized that, though the pain was indeed there, it was on the wrong arm.

Shakily, she lifted her hand to see that the Dark Mark was unmarred. Blood dripped down her right arm and, as it fell onto the mark, seemed to soak into her skin, as if the mark was feeding off of her pain, her suffering. Fear and awe filled her as she shifted her gaze from her left arm, to her right. There, four deep, jagged cuts sat, blood gathering slowly in the wound before spilling over either side of her arm and onto the crisp white floor. How had he done it? What kind of magic had the Dark Lord fused into her arm? Would the magic fade, as most curses did, or would it stay within her until the day the evil man died?

Frustrated and scared beyond believe at the things that were happening to her, Willow sat up, wincing as a fresh wave of pain rippled through her. She pressed her hand to the scratches in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. As she sat there, exhausted, the hopelessness of her situation seem to crash down on her. Tears streamed down the pale, almost sallow flesh of her cheeks. What was the point of pretending anymore? Bravery, courage- it was a front, an act. How could she be brave in the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort? How could she be courageous when she ate, slept, and breathed under the same roof as a murderer?

She was a fool for thinking that she could find Tom again, hidden somewhere deep within the heart of the new, nefarious man he had become. The brief glimpses of him- in a tear, or in the way he seemed to pause every time he caught her eyes- were not enough anymore. They were too few and far between to give her comfort now. Even if she could somehow manage to bring Tom to the surface, it would not last long enough for him to see reason. His very being vibrated with the contaminated, malicious power of the Dark Lord. If Willow wanted to escape with her life, she would have to be clever about it. But how could she be clever when fear clouded her mind like a thick fog that would never dissipate? Again, it came down to bravery, and courage. She knew that she had them, and in abundance. Thirty-three years on the run had given her at least that much. Where had it gone? It seemed to come in bursts. Sometimes, during her masquerade of the emotions, she could actually feel them take root. Mostly, they came when the Dark Lord's requests combated with her stubborn nature, her pride, like they had when he'd asked her to beg. She'd been brave then.

___You have fought through your fear millions of times__,_ she thought to herself as she shifted herself backwards, lifting her now blood-soaked hand to turn the tap and allow the water to run. Again, she was struck by how cold it was. Once it had warmed, she shifted her wounds directly under the spray, emitting a low his at the burning pain. As gently as she could, Willow washed the blood from her skin. When it was gone, she shifted herself wholly under the stream of water and tilted her head up, almost managing a smile as she felt it wash over her face.

When the water stopped, Willow was barely able to stop herself from crying out in fear. As Tom approached her from behind, she cringed, courage and bravery once again stepping just out of her reach. ___I am no Gryffindor_, she thought as the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She was a Ravenclaw. ___That's right, _she thought. ___You are a Ravenclaw. You are creative, and intelligent, and you will find a way out. You always do._

"I see you tried to destroy my work," Tom said, the sneer clear in his voice. "Do you believe me to be such a fool that I would not think of that?"

"Of course not, my Lord. I didn't think of that… I just wanted it gone."

"Ha! Insolent girl! That mark is a reminder to those who wear it that they are my pawns, the tools I use to get what I desire. Everyone who wears that mark belongs to me. You are just another insignificant gear in the clockwork of my plan. You can be replaced."

"Is that why you spent so long searching for me? So that you could replace me when you saw fit?"

"I wanted you to feel my pain!" Tom roared, making Willow flinch. Tucking to fingers under her silken collar, Tom lifted his newest pawn to her feet and pulled her face to his, so that she could feel the chill of his words against her skin. "I want your beautiful suffering," he hissed, licking his lips as if he could taste her fear. "I wanted to love you, I really did. I thought that you would be that one person who could set my heart on fire. But I feel NOTHING! My whore of a mother saw to that!" Tom withdrew his hand and watched her slump to the floor, her legs far to weak to support her own weight. "I want to feel what everyone else feels! I want to feel remorse when I kill, and guilt when I lie! I want my heart to break when you tell me you don't love me. All I ever feel is anger, and hatred!" Tom paced the length of the bathroom, and Willow took that time to look over him. All he wore was a crisp pair of black trousers. The sound of his bare feet hitting the wet floors echoed through the small room, and his chest heaved as he tried to control his anger. "I hate you, because you have what I want, and I can't take it from you."

Tom stopped pacing, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "But that won't matter. When I rule over both the magic and muggle worlds, what good will emotions be? All I need is power, and in that I am wealthy beyond compare. Once I own everything this pathetic world has to offer, I won't need love."

"Even if you own the world, it will never be enough-"

"SHUT UP!"

Willow gasped as an invisible force struck her, sending her back against the tiled wall. Her head hit the wall with a resounding smack, and she groaned. The room began to spin before her eyes, and she felt her stomach lurch. Raising a trembling hand to feel the bump that had already started to form, Willow looked at Tom. He was losing control over his magic in his anger. As strong and accomplished as he was, magic that fed off of anger was the hardest magic to control, just like anger was one of the hardest emotions to control. Tom had no control over his anger- he turned his anger, and thus the magic that fed off of it on anyone he felt deserved it.

"Have you tried taking a potion?" Willow asked, the answer obvious to her. If he wanted to feel the emotion, all he needed to do was take a harmless potion. Hell, she could even brew it for him.

"How dare you even suggest that?" He growled, his fingers tightening around his wand. "My mother fed that poison to the filthy muggle I'm named after to make him love her. She was as cunning as any Slytherin, of course, but she was stupid beyond compare. That potion is the reason I am like this. She forced him to love her, and when she let the effects of the Amortentia fade, he left her and I to die. What she didn't know was that a child conceived under the effects of the Amortentia potion may be born scarred. Not visibly, of course, but in their minds. Imagine, if I had have been born proper, we might be in a much different situation.

"Alas, I was not. Unfortunate, really, for you." Tom smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll never have the family that you want."

"You saw-"

"Don't act innocent, you conniving witch! You forced those images into my head!"

"When?! When I was shackled downstairs for three whole days, without food, with barely any water? I'm too weak to do any magic, much less without my wand!"

"Have you seen them in your visions, or are they just some fantasy you have?"

"That would have been our life, if I had stayed. We could have worked through your problems, found a way… maybe having me there, having someone who finally cared about you helped you. Maybe you could love, maybe you can… I don't know."

"Don't delude yourself, Willow."

"Elliot saw it. That's why I never came back- he saw me happy. Gaela aren't meant to be happy, we're meant to live long and lonely lives. We aren't meant to be lucky. He was jealous of what I could have, so he took it from me, telling me I would die if I went back. He saw it! And Kitranthia showed-"

"Kitranthia?" Tom hissed, his voice laced with poison. "I should have guessed," he seethed, again pacing the room. "Then it's true. That could have been us?" For a moment, a hint of longing shone in Tom's eyes, but it was shattered as his anger came crashing back down, crushing every other emotion. "You took away any chance I ever had at being happy because some lunatic liar told you that you were going to die?"

"I didn't know he was lying, I was a child-"

"You were NOT!" Tom growled, halting his steps and turning sharply to face her.

"Yes, Tom, compared to Elliot, I was. Though maybe I did not think like a child, I still feared like one, looked like one, and felt like one. I knew that Elliot was my best hope. The light at the end of my tunnel. He was my freedom from running, from orphanages, and he could protect me. He knew what I was! You don't understand how much I needed that, needed to be guided by one of my own kind. Sure, his reasons were awful, but he taught me everything I know about being a Gaela. I couldn't have stayed, Tom! Do you think Mrs. Cole and Martha would have accepted me? They were trying to get me in to see a doctor before I left- you don't understand how dangerous that is for me! And then I saw everything. I saw you come back from Hogwarts, how you looked for me, as if I were just playing hide-and-seek. I saw you kill your father, and those other two muggles there. I saw you placing a locket on an island surrounded by a pool of the dead. I saw what you would become without me, and I desperately wanted to go back."

"Couldn't you have seen for yourself whether or not you would live?"

"I was not as gifted with the Sight then, and after Elliot took me in and taught me how to use it properly, I never thought to question it. Not until I met Kitranthia. That's why I went to see Elliot, when he… when he tried to kill me."

"And what do you see of your future now?" Tom asked. Her ability to see the future had always been something that amazed him.

"Nothing I like."

"Your death?"

"Among other things…" Willow looked away from then, unable to look into the eyes of the man who would torture her for the rest of her life. She had no idea how long that would be. Her visions never gave her an exact time and date- those she had to guess. In the vision of her death, Tom's hair was streaked with more grey than usual. She knew then, that it would be a while until he killed her. Possibly a few years. She didn't know whether to be happy about that or not. Did she want to be tortured for years, or would she rather just die, there and then, and never have to feel the sting of the Dark Lord's Cruciatus again? Surely, she could anger him enough for him to want to kill her. There was one vision in particular that gave Willow pause. It was of a girl, with long, needle-straight and nearly black hair, with bright green eyes, as well as something willow had never noticed before- a bright streak of silver in her hair.

Thalia.

Willow had been seeing her for quite some time now, she just hadn't realized it until Kitranthia had used her vision to bring forth her desires. At first, Willow's visions of the girl had been blurry- as if she was there, but not. When she'd left Hogwarts and Tom had wrapped his arms around her, when she knew he had her, the vision became stronger. With every day she'd spent with the Dark Wizard, the vision became more and more focused. It had never been perfectly clear, though, until then. Willow could see it as if she were actually there. Willow thought she could hear Tom talking, but she blocked out his works and focused on the vision. It wasn't a particularly long one.

Thalia just stood there, hands shaking, with Willow's own wand in her hand. Willow could hear herself speaking.

"You remember what mommy taught you, Lia? You need to do it now, quickly, before he finds us."

"What about you?" The child asked, tears flowing freely down her soft, round cheeks.

"I will always be with you. You are my grace, and my muse, just as your name states. Remember that no matter where I am, I will always love you."

"What if I forget what to do?" She asked, the fear in her voice making Willow's heart ache.

"You won't, my love. You are strong, beautiful, and brilliant. Never forget that, and you'll always know what to do." Upon hearing a disturbance in the other room, Willow took her daughter's face between her hands and pressed a frantic kiss on her forehead before giving the child a gentle shove. "Run, Thalia!" She whispered urgently. "Run, and don't you ever stop!"

The girl nodded, almost screaming when the door of the room they were in shook. "I love you, mommy," she whispered, before pressing the wand to her temple and muttering an incantation. The form of the girl disappeared, and it her place was a fox cub. The fox, Thalia's Animagus form, had a thick coat of fur that consisted of four distinct colors. Orange was the majority, covering her ears, the tufts around her neck, as well as her sides, her hind legs, and the underside of her tail. Her front legs, stomach and most of her face where a silky white, as were the insides of her ears and the bushy tip of her tail. Black fur covered her back, as well as her tail, and the rest of her face, mixing with the orange and white fur. It was almost as if the fox had ran through a coal mine, and the dust had settled over her fur. Lastly was two defined streaks of silver that started from the tips of her ears before combining into one, thicker streak, that ran town the length of her back, disappearing into the white tip of her tail. The fox closed its mouth over the wand before turning towards the back wall and shooting into the small whole that led outside. Just as the fox's thick tail disappeared through the wall, the door burst open in a flash of green, and he was there.

"Tom-"

"You're very good, Willow. Nearly Twelve years, I've been looking you! You will never see the light of day again!"

Willow blinked, bringing her hand up to gently rub her forehead. What did this mean? That vision had always seemed as if it were in the middle of a blizzard, and occasionally the snow fall would slow enough to let her catch a glimpse. It was so, so clear now. She knew that the more likely a vision was to come true, the stronger it was, only taking a solid form once it was all but set in stone. Willow's hand fell to her mouth as she realized what it could be- what it had to be. She looked down at her bare stomach. It had only just happened, but that was all it took. One event to solidify or destroy the future. Willow moved her shaking hand from her mouth, to her stomach.

___She's in there_, she thought, tears building in her eyes before spilling over and streaming down her cheeks. She needed to get out more than ever now, for the sake of her daughter. It had only been a day, but Willow knew without a doubt that she was pregnant. Thalia was real now. She was going to exist- Willow just had to make sure she had the chance. The future obviously believed that she had a pretty good chance of escaping, or it would not have given her the vision. All Willow had to do was wait for the right moment.

"Are you even listening to a word I'm saying?" Willow heard Tom hiss as he drew nearer to her.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. It's hard to think when I'm so hungry," she replied. She found that her words were actually true- it was hard for her to think of anything other than the constant rumbling in her stomach- especially now that she knew she would have someone else to feed soon.

"You called me Tom twice during your little rant, but now you call me your 'Lord' because you want something from me." Tom scoffed, shaking his head. Did she really think he would fall for that a second time? "You fake your compliance. When you call me your Lord, I want you to mean it."

"You are not my Lord, and I will ___never _mean it," she snarled, inwardly groaning at herself for it. That was no way to act when she needed to eat for the sake of her child.

"Then I suppose you'll just have to earn your meals in another way."

"And what would that be?"

"Surely a Ravenclaw would be able to uncover a double-entendre when it was presented to her?" Tom raised his brow, a seductive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Willow's eyes widened as she realized what he was getting at. "Are you mad? I can't stand on my own two feet, let alone 'earn my meals'. I am in no state for that."

"Then you must not be all that hungry." Tom turned on his heel and left Willow alone in the bathroom.

"Damn him!" When she was certain that he was out of hearing range, Willow let out a slew of curses that would make her parents turn in their graves. "He wants me to act like some common whore!" Willow sobbed, burying her head in her hands. When it came down to it, it was either her pride, or the life of her daughter. Which was more important to her? The answer was obvious. Her daughter would be- no, was- infinitely more important than her pride. _But do I really want to raise my daughter into this? A live always afraid, a life on the run?_ Willow shook her head as her thoughts ran wild. Her life was over- though she knew it wouldn't be fore some time, she knew she would die. Thalia could have a chance, could change her fate, live the life Willow always longed to.

Willow's face set with determination, and she crawled across the still wet floor, careful not to slip. She used the knob on the bathroom door to slowly pull herself to her feet. She felt bruised both inside and out, and it was hard not to let herself fall back to the floor and cry, defeated. The Gaela pressed on, leaning heavily against the wall for support, slowly but surely making her way to the living area, where she was sure the Dark Lord would be. All the while, she dreaded what she would have to do for him. He had taken her freedom, taken her body, her virginity, and now he was going to take her pride. Willow was sacrificing the last thing she had for a life that hadn't even started yet. She was already slipping into the role of a protective mother. She would become a slave to the Dark Lord so that she could give her everything to her baby when the time came.

Eventually, Willow reached the end of the hallway. The living area was just around the corner. Just a few more steps, and she would be there-

"-stubborn little Gaela bitch given into you yet, my Lord?"

Willow froze. The Dark Lord wasn't alone, and she didn't recognize the voice of the man with him. She gulped and pressed her back flat against the wall, breathing deep, quiet breaths. She knew she would probably be punished for eavesdropping, but she couldn't help it. They were talking about her, obviously. It made her smile slightly, knowing that Tom spoke of her as being a stubborn bitch. ___You bloody well bet I am, _she thought___, Though I suppose not for much longer_. Would he still consider her stubborn when she gave into him? She doubted it. Instead, she would no doubt be known as his 'compliant half-breed whore'.

"Of course she has, Cygnus. No witch can resist the Dark Lord's power." That was Abraxas- no doubt trying to suck up to the Dark Lord after his 'incident'.

"She did not give in," Tom growled, anger seeping into his voice. "I took her by force."

"As good a way as any, my Lord, to teach a woman her place."

A third voice. His words set Willow's veins on fire, a hatred for the man quickly settling in. If she could show him his place, she would do it without a second thought. ___I would chain the bastard in hell, _she seethed.

"Mmm. I'm not so sure she got the picture. Did you, Willow?"

Willow's breath caught in her throat as she heard Tom's low tenor call out to her. He knew she was there. She couldn't very well walk away. Slowly, she turned the corner, still using the wall to support herself. Tom's eyes were instantly on her, the other three pairs of lecherous eyes soon following. She wanted very badly to cover herself up, but if she removed her hands from the wall, she would undoubtedly fall over. Instead, she shook her hair out in front of her, making her hair fall over her breasts, covering them almost completely.

"That only makes you even more appealing, pet," Tom chuckled darkly, his eyes bright with excitement. "Are you having second thoughts about my proposal? Come, and we'll see if you can earn that meal."

Oh, Merlin. Why did those men have to be there? She really didn't want to do this in front of them. But she was already there, exposed. If she didn't go to him now, what would he do to her later? Or would he drag her out and have his way with her in front of his Death Eaters? Neither option pleased her. Slowly, she shifted forward, shifting her weight onto the back of a high-backed armchair. A man with thick, scraggly black hair sat there.

She had to walk past him to get to Tom. It was uncomfortable- she felt so vulnerable. She would have nothing to hide behind. All four men would be able to stare at every inch of her, once she came around the chair fully. She did so very slowly. Now that she had nothing to support her, she had to take extra caution as to not fall. Her legs wobbled as she moved. Mostly from pain, but partly from the sheer embarrassment. They were all still staring, unabashed and unabated, as if it were their divine right to gaze at her. The only thing she wore was the thick, gold band on her ankle.

At the feel of a rough, calloused hand grazing over her rear, Willow shrieked in anger, and swung her hand back, catching the scraggly-haired man across the mouth before falling back onto Tom's lap.

"You filthy little harlot!" The man rose as if to strike her back, but Tom shot him down with a look of bitter fury

"You will not touch my things, Orion.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Orion bowed before he sank back into the chair, fear plastered on his face.

Tom's face switched back to cold indifference as he trailed his fingers over Willow's naked back. She was slumped against him, her back to Abraxas, and the other man, who must have been Cygnus. Willow was glad that it was just a small gathering, and not Tom's entire group of followers. "Isn't she beautiful?" Tom shifted her so that her back was against his chest, and then brushed her hair away from her breasts, giving the men a full view of her bruised body. "There isn't a single place on her body where I have not marked her." Tom reached down between her legs, and Willow whimpered audibly, the four men laughing together at her discomfort. Tom forced her legs open, settling one on either side of his lap. "I was a bit surprised to find that the curtains did indeed match the drapes."

Willow had never felt more humiliated in her life. It was like she was a piece of art on display, there for the personal viewing pleasure of the three men as Tom went over every single stroke of his brush he'd used.

"She hasn't eaten in days, so she's rather weak-willed at the moment. I doubt it will last long. I do enjoy her bite, but it's quite nice to be able to relax like this…" Tom busied himself prodding his finger over every one of her tender bruises, his arousal growing with each of Willow's small, pained gasps. "Perhaps I should feed you less often," Tom mused, knowing it would get a rise out of the girl.

"Please, my Lord, I wish to pleasure you properly, I long to be fully awake when you take me."

Tom knew it was a lie, but it didn't stop the pleasure her words caused him. She was being a good little girl in front of his minions, and he would have to reward her- even if it was only a show. She was smart, she knew what he liked, and that she would play on that pleased him to no end. Eventually, he would make it so that she could say those words with conviction. When it got to the point that she knew what he wanted, and truly wanted to give it to him- then he could say he'd truly succeeded in having her, body, mind, and soul.

Tom's hands ceased their tirade and settled on Willow's thighs. "We'll have to continue our conversation on another night," he told the men while he nipped at Willow's neck. "I've a pet in need of some training."

The three men nodded and stood, bowing before they each disapparated with three, loud cracks.

"One day, you'll mean those words," Tom hissed into Willow's ear. He slid his arm under the crook of her knees, his other tightly under her arms, and stood, lifting her up with him as he did, and carried her off to his bedroom.

___I seriously doubt that, _she thought.


End file.
